The Best of Us Falls
by Tara Laurel
Summary: "He was utterly and completely, spent. Allowing his knees to buckle, Reid slid down the wall and collapsed onto the tiled floor." Reid's struggle to come to terms with his headaches..and their finally revealed cause. A couple twists. Please R&R!
1. Exit Sandman

**A/N: I do not own Criminal Minds or the characters, etc etc etc. You know the drill.**

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**Enjoy.**

**THANKS**

**Chapter One: Exit Sandman**

The covers whipped and twisted about violently as Spencer Reid wrestled with the inability to sleep for the fourth full night in a row. He had gotten approximately three hours of rest total in those linked days and failed to get much more a night in the preceding ones. He truly didn't know why he was still fighting so desperately with the inevitable. He ultimately understood that the war would wage on into the early hours of the still darkened morning until he would finally raise a weary white flag and surrender, retreating to a book. Still, this did not help his anxiety. It was simply just another battle. A task that required very little effort of him before had now become a tedious chore. He failed to focus on the words in front of them and the constant sharp and numbing throngs that would engulf his head did little in helping. He would sit there and read the same sentences again and again until he finally would thrust the novel closed in frustration and make yet another retreat. Then as always, around 3:00am, Spencer Reid would find himself pacing back and forth along his bedside, staring down longingly at the rumpled pillow.

With a labored and agitated sigh, he turned and shuffled off to the bathroom. Out of mindless habit, his right hand groped the wall and instantly found the switch, flicking it upwards upon discovery. Wincing sharply and clamping his eyelids closed, Reid hastily flipped the lights off. His head whirled and he stabilized himself against the counter. Ever so slowly, Reid allowed his eyes to open and embrace the darkness surrounding him. His hands reached out for the faucet and he twisted the knobs with ease. Over the past several months, Reid had grown quite accustomed to functioning in the dark whether it was in his own house or while hiding behind his sunglasses on the job. He allowed the flow of water to beat against the palms of his hands as it reached his ideal temperature. Once satisfied, Reid bent forward and splashed the cool liquid onto his sweaty face. Running his damp fingers through his disheveled hair, he allowed himself a single and overpowering yawn. He usually held them back when he could. Their all too familiar sound did nothing but remind him of the dreadful exhaustion he was experiencing. With a shrug of his shoulders, Reid stretched out his arm and blindly pulled the towel off of its proper hanger. He gingerly pressed the cloth against his face to absorb the pellets of water but then neglected to remove it. He simply stood there, his neck arched back and the towel lying sloppily over his face. He no longer could find the will to remove it. He was utterly and completely, spent. Allowing his knees to buckle, Reid slid down the wall and collapsed onto the tiled floor. The contact sent pressure up his spine and rattled his already clogged mind. The panging intensified and Reid lazily dropped his head back against the wall, the moist towel still shielding his eyes.

This was yet another new twist Spencer Reid had grown quite adapted to. While at work, he would slip off into an empty bathroom stall, an abandoned office, or any other sanctuary he could find and withdraw into the darkness and silence. In this entirely motionless state, Reid would desperately attempt to drain his mind of all thoughts, all ideas, all concerns. He focused solely on emptying his mind. He imagined the lack of clutter would deter the headache from increasing but sometimes only seemed to allow further space for the agony to grow. Reid had learned to spend hours in this unique state and did so whenever possible. In these sessions, it was as if he was no longer there, or anywhere for that matter. He centered in on the black inside of his eyelids and hid there for as long as the pain or his life would allow.

Hiding his problems from the world was no easy feat either and most likely added to the strain. He had to reserve even more energy and even more tolerance in order to suppress the throbbing when it came over him in public. Without warning, a surge of pressure would overwhelm his head and he simply could not reel in pain while pointing a loaded weapon at a serial killer. He also cloaked the pain in non-lethal work scenarios as well as to not alarm his team members. The last thing he needed or wanted was for the only people he considered as friends to worry about him. He had already let his guard down and revealed the secret to two of his coworkers and wasn't about to make that mistake again.

He oftentimes wondered if he was going to turn out to be like so many of the protagonists of the novels that he buried himself in. Many of them tried so desperately to avoid their foretold fate or preplanned destiny only to walk right into it by doing so. He thought of the story of Oedipus and pondered if he too would seal his own fate by running from it. Was masking the pain and suppressing it to unhealthy levels going to end up being the reason for some terrible consequence that Reid could currently not bring himself to even think of. He did, at times, desire greatly to gouge out his own eyes in agony and frustration but shrugged that off as coincidence and not a connection.

Hearing the buzzing of his alarm from the other room, Reid gradually lifted himself from his place of rest and looked over his dim image in the mirror as small rays of sunlight seeped in through his partially closed blinds. His ragged appearance shocked even him and Reid turned away, readying himself to face and fake yet another day.


	2. Running Out of Time

**A/N:**** yatta yatta yatta I don't own the original series or characters. I take no credit, and so forth and so on. **

**More of Reid's thoughts and memories and how the headaches are getting worse just in time for a crucial case. (Story will get better. Promise.)**

**please / por favor - - - read and review - - - thank you / gracias (thanks for all the awesome reviews so far - you guys are great!) **

******LET ME KNOW if you have any ideas, suggestions, etc of what you think should happen with a case, with Reid's headaches, etc. I pretty much have a story mapped out but am always open to a fresh mind!**

**Chapter Two: Running Out of Time**

Reid walked seemingly leisurely from his car. To an onlooker, he was simply taking his time or enjoying the unhurried stroll. These explanations could not have been further from the truth. Spencer was indescribably fatigued. His whole body, all of his limbs, his eyes, all felt weighted. With each clap of his vibrant orange and white Chuck Taylor sneakers against the hard pavement, a hammer sounded against his skull. Nervously, Reid adjusted the strap of his bag and pushed his sunglasses up with his index finger. In an odd way, he felt as if he was right back to where he was over three years ago. This had always been the most difficult part of his drug addiction. It wasn't the withdrawal and it surprisingly wasn't the horrific memories. The most challenging and most excruciating aspect of it all was having to come into work each and every day as if everything was completely, 100% normal. The thought of his days under the influence of narcotics tugged at the back of his mind. The sensations that were received after each dose playfully danced at the edges of his being, luring him, calling his name.

Reid shook off the horrible temptation and again focused solely on his appearance. He did not desire for his team members to believe something was wrong, especially now. So much had happened that year. JJ had left and in doing so took with her a piece of him. He had never told her this of course, but she was his rock. She was his constant; unflinching and unchanging. Reid of course knew that Derek Morgan was the best male friend he had ever had in his life and deep down thought of him as a brother. Jason Gideon had been the closest thing Spencer had to a father figure or a mentor. He was profoundly close with all of his teammates and losing any of them would have been a significant blow, but still, something was different when it came to JJ. He had accepted the fact that they were not meant to be together long ago. He had truly been happy for her with her marriage to Will and the arrival of her son. But there was always something about her, about their relationship. It landed somewhere uniquely in between brother and sister, best friends, and lovers in some unexplainably way that always just felt normal to Reid. She was there when he needed advice. She never looked down on him or treated him like a child and managed to be the only person on the entire team that called him by his first name, let alone shortened it to the endearing "Spence".

Now, well, now Emily was gone too, and for good. She couldn't come back and visit like JJ. He couldn't meet her for coffee on the weekends or catch up through emails or letters when things got busy. She was simply, gone.

Reid was well-versed in a lot of areas of studies, but one of them was not loss. Sure, he witnessed people dead or dying almost every day on the job. He watched his father walk out on him at a young age. His only true father figure and mentor, Jason Gideon, up and left without so much as a verbal goodbye. Still, death was different. It was, well, permanent. He tried terribly to separate himself from it all. To look at it like a case, or one of his beloved statistics. People die. It happens. He knew how many on average a day, he could recite each gender's life expectancy, the top causes of death and among which gender or age group. Still, Emily Prentiss was no statistic. She wasn't found in the pages of one of Reid's books nor was she simply another picture, another face on a wall of cases. She was his coworker, his friend. Now all of that was gone. He couldn't help but remember how he first treated her when she joined the team. He wasn't himself and she recognized it with hardly even knowing him. She tried to be there for him, to talk to him, to help. Yet in Reid's addiction and clouded judgment, he continually and callously pushed her away. Not once though, did she take offense or lash back at him. Not once, did she give up on him or overcrowd him with help. She stood her ground, remained present if needed, and then let him make his own choices. That rough start was the beginning of a friendship that would grow and overtime strengthen into something only death could break.

Spencer could not think of things such as this. He could not personalize it, even though it was highly personal. He couldn't grieve, even though his heart felt sick. The extensive thinking and denial and suppressed sorrow did nothing to help his headaches, but only quickly added to the pain.

Not only had he been deeply affected his Emily's death, but her murder had sent a massive shockwave across the entire building, hitting his team the hardest. This was yet another reason to continue to hide behind his glasses, behind his feigned smile. The team had enough on their hands and hearts to be burdened by his headaches. The very last thing Spencer Reid wanted to be was a worry.

Pulling at the strap of his messenger bag yet again, Spencer continued on his routine walk into the building. As was also normal, he managed to run into Derek Morgan as he did so. They shared a brief and friendly nod.

"Any pain?"

Reid glanced up at his friend and the sudden inquiry curiously.

"Huh?"

"Anything?"

Reid shook his head and mentally kicked himself for his paranoia and hearing impairment due to the cranial throbbing he was at that moment experiencing.

"Haven't heard anything," Reid shrugged,

"Hey," Morgan teased, "maybe we'll get lucky and be in for a nice boring day of paperwork."

Reid paused and searched for something normal to address as to avoid attention. "How was your, uh, date last night? Hannah?"

"Anna," Morgan corrected with a sly grin.

"You two have been going out for like a week now, this is serious for you."

Derek chuckled and turned to see Aaron Hotchner looming just in front of him.

"Personal talk later," he informed them with a sober tone, "Get your go bags. Wheels up in 20."

Reid and Morgan exchanged anxious glances and hurriedly gathered their things before joining the rest of the team in the rush.

"Christina and Anthony Schultz were both found murdered in their home less than an hour ago by a neighbor," Garcia explained via webcam once the team was aboard the plane. Their daughter, four year old, Tatum Schultz is now missing."

"How's our clock?" Dave questioned.

"Parents were killed around 1:00am, so about 6 hours." She paused as she pulled photographs on the screen. "Christina, 38, was found in the girl's bedroom and died from blunt force trauma to the head. Anthony, 40, was found in the hall with several lacerations and two gunshot wounds to the chest."

"Gunshot?" Seaver questioned. "How come no one in the neighborhood heard them?"

"They did," Penelope revealed. "but it is Chicago sweetie. They didn't live in the best neighborhood and neighbors who were interviewed said they heard the shots around 1, but didn't think anything of it –"

Reid partially listened to his teammates as he started down wearily at the photograph of the young and grinning redhead girl. He then moved on the pictures depicting the parents' beaten and bloody corpses. The images pressed into his mind and swirled with all the other masses of images and information that relentlessly tortured him day and night.

"99% of abducted children don't survive the first 24 hours," Reid interjected mindlessly to give the illusion that he was paying full attention.

Statistics and facts spewed out of Reid most times before he even thought about it anyway. They just came to him naturally. He attempted to hold them back or dilute them every now and again to avoid the stares and jeers, but his teammates would have found it perfectly natural for him to say a fact and nothing more.

"Reid, Morgan and Dave go to the house. Seaver and I will go to the station. Reid, the girl is your assignment. I want to know everything about her, where she played, went to school, everything. Dave, focus on our unsub. Get a profile. Morgan, you take the parents. See if they had any enemies, anything. It looks like the child was the focus but let's be sure. You all know the drill. Work quickly. This girl is running out of time."


	3. Remorse

**A/N: SO SORRY about the long wait for an update! I am working 3 jobs and going to school. please, bear with me! i will update whenever I can! **

**.pleeaassee read and review. =) **

**Chapter Three: Remorse**

Reid grimaced as they walked up the driveway and the sun peeked over the top of the house, eagerly assaulting his sunglasses. Their dark shading blocked most of the penetrating rays, but Reid still felt the blow as he quickly put his head down. He casually adjusted his glasses and followed his teammates up to the broken home. They all paused at the front door and shook hands with a partially well-dressed detective. His initial appearance shouted astute businessman or someone from money. At a closer glance, one could smell the cheap cologne, easily spot the frayed ends of his suit jacket and see that his watch was clearly a knock off. The agents knew immediately what kind of person they were dealing with. He possessed an oversized ego and imagined he had a great value about himself, even when he didn't. He lacked wealth, but he still desperately attempted to show the world he was better than others. He was clearly compensating for something and his smug expression did not help matters.

"This the point of entry?" Morgan questioned after shaking the man's hand firmly.

"There appears to be absolutely no sign of forced entry." The man who introduced himself as Detective Joslin unpleasantly pointed out. "The door was unlocked when the neighbor kid found them."

"How did she find them?" Rossi interjected.

"She was playing catch with her brothers in the other yard and the ball came over here. Kid says she saw blood on the doorstep and handle. She went inside and ran back and told her mother. The mom called us."

"Where are they now?" Dave again inquired.

"They're finishing up their statements over there."

"I'll talk to them when we finish in here," Reid offered half heartedly.

"So," Morgan began as they entered the house, "I'm the unsub. I don't break in. No broken windows, no forced entry. I walk right in the front door. Why?"

"Would anyone leave their door unlocked out here for any reason?" Rossi turned to the detective.

"In this neighborhood? That's be the last mistake you make. Most people got bars on their windows and several locks on their doors."

"So we can assume they didn't leave it unlocked," Dave reasoned, "so either he was let in –"

"Or I had a key," Derek added. "There was no sign of robbery. This wasn't some random abduction at a mall. Maybe our unsub knew them, was close enough to have a key."

"If someone had let him in, their guard would have been down. Also indicating that he knew the family –"

The observations continued as they made their way through the diminutive house and Reid vaguely listened and added bits here and there.

"So this is where they found Anthony Schultz," Morgan sighed as they rounded the entryway and came to the hall.

"Shot twice in the chest at close range," Rossi noted

"So he had a gun?" Morgan questioned. "Why not take out the parents first, avoid the struggle? Why'd he kill Christina Schultz with a lamp and not just shoot her."

They spoke as they continued down the hall and peered briefly into the other rooms. Reid kept his head low and attempted to avoid glancing at any of the blood. His eyes wandered and fell into the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was propped open and a towering cabinet stood against the wall.

"Maybe it wasn't his gun," Reid murmured, nodding the others in the direction of the room.

Rossi was the first to enter and looked the piece of furniture over.

"None are missing," Reid noted, instantly counting all the guns and available spots.

"These were found in the drawer by his side of the bed," the detective approached the agents with an evidence bag of bullets.

"So the gun belonged to the husband." Morgan deducted.

"We're running ballistics on the bullets taken from the victim's chest," the man stated, "but from their caliber, they look to be a match."

"And the gun?" Rossi prompted.

"Kidnapper probably took it with him. We've searched the entire house. Nothing but hunting rifles."

"Okay," Rossi nodded, "I hear my wife scream, I reach for my gun, run out in the hallway and find our guy."

"Why not just shoot him right away?" Detective Joslin questioned.

"He could've been distracted. Saw his wife dead, the kidnapper took him by surprise, they struggled, he grabs the gun and shoots him." Dave concluded.

"What about the kid?" Morgan added. "He would've had to subdue her someway while he killed her parents. He couldn't grab her and fight them off."

"Come with me," the man suggested and lead the agents into the child's bedroom.

Reid staggered back and stepped outside, his nostrils flaring and his head feeling as if it was about to erupt. Luckily, he had entered the room last and both of his teammates failed to notice his dramatic reaction to the odor.

"You smell that?" The detective pointed out.

"Chloroform." Rossi nodded. "Why so strong? You'd only need a small amount."

Detective Joslin pointed down at a small number residing next to a turned over bottle.

"He spilled it," Morgan stated. "He probably was startled when the mom came in and dropped it, then grabbed the lamp." He paused and glanced around. "I don't think he ever wanted to kill them."

"What?" The man took a step backward in confusion.

"If he had wanted the parents out of the way he could have just gave them a dose of the Chloride, or went to their room first and killed them. The gun wasn't his, he used a lamp to kill Christina, he didn't bring a weapon with him. He never expected to face the parents."

"Killing the wife was probably just an instinctual reaction," Dave interjected. "She screamed and he got scared so he grabbed the first thing he saw. "He only hit her once. If he wanted to make sure he'd killed her, he would've kept on hitting her. Then the husband comes and he doesn't know what else to do. He was scared."

Reid listened to the conversation from the hall and then suddenly widened his eyes, asking his teammates to join him in the kitchen. When they all were gathered around, Reid pulled the photographs from a folder and slid them onto the table.

"Look at the way the bodies are positioned." He began. "At first glance, it looks like his signature, or something else, but I think it's more than that. I think it's grief."

The teammates examined the pictures closely. Both victims laid on their backs stiffly. Their heads were looking up as if staring at the ceiling and their arms were placed gracefully at their sides, perfectly straight.

"You see this bruising on her ring finger here where her wedding ring was? I don't think he took it as a trophy. I think he stayed with the bodies after he killed them. He took her hand and probably squeezed it in remorse for who knows how long. Then he took it for some other reason. Maybe a personal connection or something to remember her by. I think he might have known them."

"Was anything found missing of the husband's?" Dave asked the officer.

"Nothing besides the gun, and well, the photographs."

"What photographs?" Rossi pressed.

The detective led the agents out the doorway and into the living room. Nothing appeared to be disturbed except for the rows of framed pictures that decorated the fireplace mantle. They all contained past memories of family vacations, Tatum riding her bicycle, a professional photograph from the couples' wedding, and more. There existed a total of nine frames, but only seven pictures. Two of the square black frames remained empty.

"Reid," Rossi started, "I think you're right."


	4. Worse

**A/N: WOW. I am so terribly sorry to all of you that this story has gone so long without being updated. To be perfectly honest, I have a ton of chapters finished. I simply lack the key ingredient of a working computer (mine decided to obtain a nasty virus and I can't afford the new software) and internet. So with the little time I have here, I have uploaded this chapter and hopefully can add another one ASAP.**

**THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I personally do not believe myself to be that talented or creative etc etc when it comes to writing. I merely to do it because I love it. Reviews keep me believing that the story deserves to be updated officially on here and let's me know if you love it, hate it, etc. **

**I hope you enjoy the long awaited and so very overdue chapters!**

**Chapter Four: Worse**

Reid eagerly stepped outside of the stuffy house that now smelled purely of iron and chemicals. His enthusiasm dissipated when he was again greeted by the harsh sunlight that had earlier offended him. He glanced back only for a moment at his teammates still conversing and examining inside. With a weighted sigh, Spencer turned on his heel and made a purposeful stride towards the young dark haired girl who was pinned to her mother's side by her strong and tan arm. The two were quite a sight if Reid could be surprised by anything he saw anymore. The woman appeared to be in her mid forties but carried the pretentious air of someone much older and wiser. Her shoulders remained back stiffly and her hard gaze darted across the scene before her. She instantly saw the agent coming towards her and Reid noted the immediate applied pressure to the girl's shoulder and watched as she decisively positioned herself ahead of her in Reid's path, as if to block the agent from her daughter. Reid debated on slowing his pace and treating the scenario more tenderly, like one approaching a wild animal and her offspring. Time was of the essence and moments spent playing her games were moments that the little girl was still missing. His lack of sleep and normal spirited attitude also countered the thought. He maneuvered across the driveway, bumping into several officers ungracefully along the way and cursing his awkward nature that became enhanced by his aching head. He reached the pair just in time for the mother's sour frown to stiffen.

"Mrs. Miller, my name is Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI –"

"I don't care who you are or who you're with. We've answered all the questions we're going to answer."

"Please, maam, it will only take a minute. I just want to talk to your daughter briefly."

"My daughter has been through enough. Why don't you go talk to those other neighbors down the street? I bet they would know more about this."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because they probably know who did it, that's why. Trash is what they are. Black trash."

"Why do you think they would know?"

"Because it was probably one of them! They're no good. This neighborhood used to be something. Good people lived here. And then more and more of their kind started showing up."

"Maam, this _is_ Chicago." Reid bit his tongue at reciting the population attributed to African Americans in that area.

"I know that! But this neighborhood was different. Business people. Upstanding citizens. Now, look at it. Besides, there was that man.

"What man?"

"Some black man who would go to the Schultz house. He came by at least once a week. He would stay for awhile too."

"Maam, do you know anything about this man, who he was, what he looked like?"

"They all look the same to me! They're all just trouble. They took my James away."

"What do you mean, 'took him away'?"

"He ran off with one of those black girls! He was having an affair with her and finally told me he was in love with someone else. She poisoned his mind, stole him from me."

Reid continued to listen to the woman's distasteful comments as he internally shook his head in disgust. With one eye on the racist mother, he kept another on the front entrance of the house as to watch for Morgan. He certainly didn't want his friend hearing these vulgar remarks. After several more arguments as to why those of a particular darker shade of skin were so vile and undesired, Reid put his hands up in a surrender motion.

"Mrs. Miller, I don't have time for this."

"Excuse me? You come over here wanting to talk to us and now when I do you're telling me you don't have time? Why, you –"

"I came over here to ask you questions about what your daughter saw and anything you knew about the Schultz family. From what I can tell, all you're going to give me are bias and unsupported accusations and frankly, you're wasting my time. In case you have forgotten, there is a little girl who is missing. Each second I stand here listening to your racist and bigheaded theories is another second I am not doing my job to find her and the murderer of her parents. So, you can either tell me something useful and factual, or you can go home."

Reid paused to take a breath and mentally gawked at his own outburst. Spencer very rarely became confrontational and in fact, took pleasure in avoiding conflict at all costs. In that moment, Reid couldn't help but straighten his back a bit and narrow his brow. He also couldn't help but feel that he had just been possessed by his boss and it was Hotch's words spilling past his lips, not his own. Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear and glanced around in hopes that no one had caught his uncharacteristic eruption. He cocked his head to the side and found Derek leaning in the front entryway, his eyes scanning his friend curiously. Reid had no choice but to shake the sudden embarrassment off of him and ignore the stares of his teammate and go back to his conversation.

"Bethany, we're going home," the woman bit off her words and clasped onto her daughter's wrist.

Reid turned away from the mother as she marched down the driveway with her teenage daughter at her heels. He met Derek by the garage and averted eye contact with his friend.

"You okay?" Morgan questioned sympathetically.

Before Reid could even form a lie in his mind, Rossi stepped outside and joined them. Spencer let out an internal sigh of relief and lifted his eyes from the pavement.

"The neighbor says that there was a man who would come by the house at least once a week."

"That doesn't give us much," Dave replied.

The three of them spoke briefly and failed to notice when the short girl appeared behind Reid. Morgan cleared his throat and Spencer sensed to cue, turning around. The dark haired girl arched her neck and stared up at Reid with soft eyes.

"I want to help." She started, quietly, quickly glancing around.

"She's not here," Reid appeased her worries as he too carefully scanned the area.

"She wouldn't want me talking to you. She doesn't like police. She, she doesn't like a lot of people."

Spencer motioned for Bethany to take a seat on the front step as he did the same. Morgan and Rossi nodded and casually stepped away, allowing the distraught girl to not be crowded by three adult men at once.

"I – I used to babysit Tatum. I don't want anything bad to happen to her."

The two sat for awhile as Bethany shared every detail of what she could recall from the morning. Tears pulsed at the corner of her eyes only twice and Spencer had to give the teenager a good deal of respect and admiration for her courage. It wasn't until she began describing the frequent visitor her mother had briefly mentioned that the searing agony shot through his skull. He wrinkled his nose and tightly clasped down his eyelids behind the frames of his sunglasses. The girl hardly noticed as she simply continued her description that now sounded as jumbled words and sounds. Abruptly, Reid rose from his seat and apologized to the girl. He quickly made his way towards his teammates.

"Can one of you finish talking with her?"

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. I just – I think I ate some bad Chinese last night and it's –"

"Whoa," Morgan interrupted, "no need for details there kid. I'll talk to her. You go –"

Reid pushed past him before he could finish. Rounding the side of the house and coming to the backyard, Spencer quickly checked the yard. Finding no one, he leaned over in a patch of bushes and clutched his stomach with one hand and his head with the other, heaving until there was nothing left inside of him to come out. Wiping his mouth on the corner of his sleeve, Reid stumbled backward and collapsed onto the grass. He sat there for sometime, attempting to enter that familiar state of nothingness. He did everything he could to clear his mind but all his efforts failed. Hearing a sudden soft noise, Reid glanced up and watched intently as two young boys passed each other on the street. They briefly shook hands and departed. Spencer's eyes fixed on the younger boy's now balled up fist as he shoved a small bag into his pocket. It didn't take a genius like Spencer Reid to realize what just happened and Reid forced himself to look away. For the second time that day, the terrible temptation unearthed its ugly head. He just so desperately desired for everything he was feeling, everything he was experiencing, to somehow simply disappear and he wasn't blind to the quickest way to make that happen. Still, it was a road he had promised himself he would never turn down again and knew that if he did, it would be the end of him and his career this time.

Spencer rolled his neck and pointed his head towards the ground, allowing himself to see nothing but dead grass. It was then that he let the tears come, and when he finally allowed them to flow, they came upon him with imposing force and determination. He could hide it from his friends and deny it to the world all he wanted, but there was no more fooling himself. These headaches – these agonizingly awful pangs inside of his head that simply could not be described by one common term – were getting worse, much worse.


	5. Halloween

**A/N: Finally! An update! I managed to get ahold of a computer and typed at least this much up! This actually is a tie-in with a Halloween case-fic I had written for last Halloween but never was able to type or upload due to these computer issues. (This chapter was supossed to be submitted during Halloween, along with the other story. I also have a Christmas chapter that would have been uploaded for Christmas. So, it's Halloween in June I guess.**

**Thanks for sticking with me!**

**Read. Review? Enjoy!**

Chapter 6: Halloween

The days failed to get any easier for Dr. Spencer Reid as time continued on. Cases did not wait for his headaches and fears to subside or for any member of the team to cope with life's rollercoaster rides. Months had passed, but his condition had not. He felt so much had happened in such a short period of time and even his brain, and especially his heart, couldn't keep up with everything. Jennifer and Emily were back. That one sentence was enough to make Reid forget all about his own problems, at least momentarily. Of course he had been livid, unforgiving, and deeply wounded by the secrecy of it all, but Spencer simply could not stay bitter at two of his favorite people, one of which he had imagined to be dead. Ashley Seaver was gone and Reid couldn't help thinking about her from time to time. They hadn't had enough time to form a bond like he and Jennifer shared to make the break that painful, nor was she supposedly murdered or dead. Still, her departure stung him. Not to mention that Reid simply hated goodbyes. He always struggled with people leaving. Sometimes he would scoff at his own insecurities and wonder why his mind and emotions had not yet grown accustom to the growing pattern of watching those he cared about leave him.

He had been thinking about all of this, reminiscing, when the phone call came. Now, he could hardly think of anything at all. He didn't even remember hanging up or notice when the rest of the team began filling the bull pen.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan chuckled. "Where's the candy and the ugly ass masks and the five million facts about the origins of Halloween?"

Spencer neglected to speak. He barely moved and for a second, Morgan wondered if his friend was even breathing. Spencer's mind flickered to the paper bag of holiday treats, costumes, and decorations that rested underneath his desk next to his trembling legs. He had been going to pull it out when the thoughts and memories had overpowered him. Now, Reid had to remember why he had brought it and what day it even was. It didn't take long for the rest of the team to notice his behavior and their laughter turned to silent concern.

"Hey, man, what's goin' on?" Morgan pressed. "Talk to us."

"Spence?"

Her soft voice reached out to Spencer's ears. It sounded so much like _hers_. The simple word was enough to break Reid from his trance.

"Uh – I just got a call," he started, taking a wavering breath. "My mom – she uh – she had an episode. Something wasn't working with her medication or something – she – she started arguing with the doctor. When they tried to sedate her – she was – fighting – and she fell. She hit her head and – and now she won't wake up."

If it were possible, the silence seemed to deepen and the team shared a collective moment and glances of knowing.

"Spence, I am so sorry," JJ whispered and rested her hand on his.

Reid instinctively flinched. Everything seemed foreign in that moment, except that voice – and then her touch. Spencer had always had an attraction to Jennifer and it was no secret. Life had different plans for them and when JJ and Will had a child, he was genuinely happy for them. He liked Will and loved Henry dearly. But still, there would always be something there between them and they both knew it. Reid knew the Oedipus complex backwards and forwards and it was quite true. JJ certainly had a motherly touch and acted as one for the entire team. She also reminded Spencer of his own mother, the blonde hair, those soft eyes, and that gentle, reassuring voice that made Spencer feel that everything would be alright.

"Reid," Hotch began, "if you need to –"

"No, no. I'm – I'm fine." There was a hint of a feigned or nervous chuckle in his voice as he shifted uncomfortably in his head. "I'm okay, really. Isn't there a case that we should be focusing on and not all staring at me?"

No one commented on the sudden snap of attitude and no one pushed the subject. He was right, afterall, their current case wasn't pausing for his problems. A killer still was out there and with October 31st screaming at them off the calendar, they all couldn't help but feel that this was going to be their Unsub's biggest day yet.

The local serial killer had the entire team on edge. Somehow it was always more personal when these things happened in their own backyard and it was always more disturbing when their hunting season coincided with the fall holiday of the dead. When Reid went over for his fourth coffee before noon, Morgan decided to follow him.

"Hey, Reid, get out of here. Go to L.A. Be with your mom."

"I'm fine." Reid lied for roughly the thirteenth time that day.

"You're not fine. I know you, man. You're barely even here right now. Your mind is off in seven other places. Hotch is right. If you're gonna stay, all of you has got to be here. It's okay if you leave. We can survive one case without your brain."

"Did you know my mother actually used to like Halloween?" Reid hummed thoughtfully.

"Really? Huh. I wouldn't have guessed that."

"She loved all the decorations and lights and reading Frankenstein and Dracula and Ann Rice. While other kids were watching The Thing or Casper cartoons, my mom was reading me stories of ancient myths and the Druids. She loved it so much – but she still never let me go Trick-or-Treating. Dad was too busy and my mom – she thought it was too dangerous. She told me that the candy would only rot my teeth and brain anyway. Then one year she was convinced a cult was living in the neighborhood when a bunch of cats went missing. She said if I went out they'd take me away from her and sacrifice me."

"Quite an image for a kid."

"It was a new reason every year. And dressing up was not even an argument. She said that people shouldn't hide who they are. Still, she loved everything else about it. Then – she – she just got sicker and she became convinced that all holidays were a government conspiracy. That was the year we stopped reading Frankenstein together."

"Hold up," Morgan crossed his arms. "So you've never been Trick-or-Treating, Mr. King of Halloween?"

"Nope. I snuck out to a haunted house once. My – uh – my mom was having one of her episodes so I guess she never even noticed. It was probably the most rebellious thing I ever did."

"Reid," Morgan sighed, turning somber, "this must be really hard on you –"

"It is, but I'm not a baby. I just wish everyone here would stop treating me like one. My mother kept me inside on Halloween because she wasn't crazy – I mean – she was – but – she knew. She – she was just trying to keep me safe. She knew what could happen to kids on Halloween. What is happening to these kids our UnSub is after. She'd want me to stay. She'd want me, to save them."

"Alright then," Morgan nodded and retreated, "but I'm so taking you Trick-or-Treating when this is all over. Costume and all."

Spencer's sad eyes shifted quickly to transparent concern as he looked up to watch his friend walk away.

"What? Morgan? No."

"No arguments, kid."

"About what?" Rossi questioned as he walked up to claim his own new cup of coffee.

"Nothing," Reid answered far too quickly.

Morgan and Rossi shared a mischievous glance as they passed each other and Reid merely swallowed.


	6. Avoidance

**A/N: Again, thanks guys for sticking with me on this with all the delayed updates! I know it might seem like I am skipping or glazing over things but I am simply attempting to keep the pace up and not have unessential drabble. Also, that way there is less content for me to type so you get updates that much quicker! You don't always see all the details in episodes or what happens in between, so I hope you all are okay with it. If not, riot and let me know and I will remedy it.**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE...REVIEW!...**I am trying to keep the pace up, as I said, and type these out at super speed the small amounts of time I am on a computer, so there might be errors, etc. Plus I am getting a lot of notifications that people are following this story, but I have no idea what you all actually think of the story, plot, characterization, all that jazz.

**Note: Insert legal jargon here. Copyright. Not mine. Etc.**

**Chapter Six: Avoidance**

The small building was far beyond overcrowded, the elevated noise level remorselessly reverberating off the cracked walls. Remnants of Halloween decorations still adorned the humble establishment; frayed orange and black streamers loosely hanging from the ceiling, a skeleton or two remaining crooked on the doors and the stale aroma of candy corn was surprisingly almost enough to drown out the usual overwhelming odors of pretzels, alcohol and sweat. The patrons went about their evening, blissfully ignorant of the horrors that had decorated the holiday they were celebrating.

"Glad that's over," Emily sighed as she caressed the neck of her beer and leaned her elbow against the counter.

"I don't think I'm ever be able to look at a haunted house the same," JJ nodded as she took her seat at the bar. "For one thing, Henry is never going to one."

"Hey, missy," Penelope eagerly sat down beside the mother, "cough 'em up. I wanna see that adorable, handsome, perfect godson of mine!"

Jennifer laughed with a roll of her eyes. Penelope was nearly jumping up and down on her stool as JJ rummaged through her purse, the objects in her hands being ripped away by Garcia before she could even fully pull them out.

"Will emailed them to me right when they got back trick-or-treating so I could look at them on the plane ride home. Printed them off before leaving the Bureau due to a somewhat _hostile _text from Miss Penelope here."

"You emailed them to me, too, right?" Garcia more demanded than asked, ignoring her friend's comment.

"Of course," JJ nodded and laughed.

The women thumbed through the photographs, Penelope squealing and Emily grinning. The first few were Henry right after he had been wormed into his pirate costume. The eye patch was flipped up in the first shot, crooked in the next, and then being torn off by young Henry in the following. There was one of father and son and several of the toddler proceeding to dump out his pumpkin bucket of candy on the ground, followed shortly by deciding to sport said bucket as his new pirate hat, his entire head swallowed by the fabric pumpkin.

"Oh my!" Garcia waved the last photograph in the air. "New wallpaper for my computer!"

"Looks like both boys had a lot of fun," Prentiss chuckled softly.

"Yeah," JJ smiled sadly, "I just wish I would've been able to be there with them. With everything going on with Spence, I just feel like I should spending more time with my son while I can."

"You will," Emily spoke with both a reassuring and resolute tone that made Jennifer release a genuine grin. "That's my girl."

"Guys," Penelope started quietly, her voice suddenly quiet and somber. "How is Reid doing? You get to see him more than I do."

"Reid is," Prentiss sighed, "well, Reid."

"What's going to happen if – if his mom – dies?" Garcia could almost not bring herself to say it. "I mean, will he – do you think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know," JJ shook her head, replying with all honesty. "But we'll be there for him if he's not. Hopefully tomorrow will help things."

"What's tomorrow?" Emily pressed curiously.

"New case," JJ gestured toward her phone. "Got the request on the plane. Hotch already knows."

"What does a new case have to do with helping Reid?" Penelope leaned in closer to her friends.

"The case is in Henderson, Nevada, right outside of Vegas." JJ revealed slowly as the three teammates exchanged suddenly anxious glances.

Morgan walked through the police station, bidding several of the officers farewell before having his hand shook by the lead detective on the case they had spent the last forty-eight hours solving. As gruesome as this husband-hating divorcee had been, Derek had to admit it was a breath of fresh air after coming off this Halloween horror that had plagued them for an entire week. The younger the victims, the more difficult Morgan found his work to be. The string of dead teenagers was still on his mind after apprehending the ex-spouse that cut out the hearts of his two married neighbors and former friends.

As he came to the conference room, Morgan had to shake his head in sorrow at the fact that he had just thought to himself that something like the malicious murder of two men had been a breath of fresh air. The things this job did to one's mind and heart were enough to make Morgan shudder. Of course, each of them had enough tragedy in their own personal lives to do plenty of emotional, mental and physical damage. He glanced over at Reid who was sorting papers into his bag almost robotically. It was how he had handled the entire case, ever since JJ had made the announcement all the way back at Quantico of where this new murderer was located. He not once mentioned his mother and avoided the topic when anyone else brought it up. Derek knew that it was now or never. Even if his dragged his friend kicking and screaming, Morgan would make him go. He knew he had to help him do this. He just didn't know how.

"Hey, man, case is over. Why don't you go see your mom for awhile? Be with her." Morgan stepped forward, always a fan of the direct approach.

"The team needs to get back," Reid spoke quickly.

"It's like half an hour drive –"

"22 minutes in light traffic and with all green lights," Spencer automatically corrected. "That's on the I-515. 29 minutes on the I-215."

"Reid, just stop. Go see her."

"Morgan, she's _my _mother and I really don't think you have any –"

"Hotch got a call." Derek interrupted firmly, as if that small sentence was earth shattering.

"About what?" Reid creased his forehead, desperately attempting to find the conversational connection between his mother and his boss.

"You wouldn't answer your dad's calls, so he got a hold of Hotch. The hospital called your dad earlier today –"

"Called him? You mean, he hasn't been there to see her?" Reid's face was immediately flushed.

"Reid!" Morgan snapped the word against his jaw. "This ain't about your dad, alright? This is about you and your mom, man. The hospital told your dad that – well – it ain't lookin' good, kid." Morgan's voice grew soft at the end of his sentence and he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Reid, I'm really sorry but they say she probably isn't gonna wake up. They say that – she doesn't have much time."

"Much – much time?" Spencer was silent as the words and new knowledge slowly sunk into his overcrowded brain and in that moment he couldn't form words. "She fell. _Fell_. She wasn't shot. She doesn't have a disease like cancer. She just – she just fell. That's it. She was supposed to wake up."

"I'm sorry, kid."

Spencer suddenly looked like a small child. His face was sunken in and his eyes went frantic. Without a word, he began collecting his things.

"We've got to get back to Quantico." Spencer coughed, his voice failing his calm ruse.

"Damn it, Reid. This might be your last chance to see her alive."

Spencer's entire form went utterly rigid as if suddenly rigor mortis had set in. His chest was rising and falling stiffly, as if breathing had become a strenuous task. He kept still, his back to his friend, his eyes dancing behind a sheer, undesired gloss.

"Morgan," Spencer's voice was frail. "I – I can't."

"Yes, yes you can. You can do this, Reid. I'll be right there with you if need me. Rossi too." Spencer gave him a curiously thankful glance and Derek grinned softly. "You didn't think we'd let you do this alone, did you?"

As Spencer approached the seemingly ominous hospital building, flanked by his two cowoerkers, he couldn't help a sense or déjà vu. He should have known they would be there again, just as they were last time he had to face something in his hometown. This was beyond different though. Before, he had been desperate for answers. Now, he didn't want to know anything. All he desired to do was turn around and run away as far as his weary legs would take him. He wasn't strong enough for this. He wasn't ready. And yet, he kept moving forward. Despite everything else screaming inside of him, something was pulling him in. Some part of Spencer needed to do this. Rossi did all the talking at the desk and Reid was grateful as he wasn't quite sure where his voice had disappeared to once they had gotten into their vehicle. Before he knew it, Reid was standing in front of a closed door, a nurse slowly pushing it open while speaking words Spencer didn't hear. All his other senses were gone and his sight seemed sharper than ever. He hesitantly stepped forward, as if walking to a room atop a minefield. Spencer warily crossed the threshold, unaware he was no alone in the room. All he was aware of was the pale, sunken in form on the bed that had once been his mother. His knees turned to vapor underneath him and Spencer crashed to the floor next to the still woman's resting place. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Reid swallowed, took his mother's limp hand, and began the goodbye he had been so desperately avoiding.


	7. Goodbye

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**Chapter Seven: Goodbye**

"Hey, mom. It's me – it's Spencer. Your Spencer. I'm right here. I – uh – I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I just –" Reid sighed, trailing off as his quaking words tripped over each other. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. And – and not just after – after you fell. I should've – I should've come to visit more. I should've been brave enough to come and see you. Mom – I – I've been so scared. I don't know what's going on. I don't know – what's happening. I'm afraid – I'm afraid that I might have – that I might be –" Again, Spencer failed to untangle his thoughts and put them into intelligible words.

Spencer Reid could spend hours spewing facts and reciting entire novels. Logic, numbers, probability, geographical details, all flowed a little too effortlessly from his crowded brain and out past his lips. It was second nature. Emotions, well, those Spencer Reid did not handle very well. He avoided them as much as he could, but when they overcame him, they were as over the top as his long-winded stories and explanations. When Reid got angry, it wasn't long before the entire team knew it and he was nearly shouting at an abusive father, incompetent police officer or even JJ, one of his best friends. As much as he attempted to bottle it, it oftentimes still leaked, or exploded, out in unhealthy ways. This in no way made Spencer Reid a bad person or poor agent. Each member of the team had their flare ups and their flaws. Sorrow and grief were other feelings Reid desperately attempted to hide deep within himself if he could not ignore them entirely. Reid simply ran away from them and the problems behind them. Of course, they always managed to catch up to him. His past history of drugs and his recent avoidance of the topic of his headaches flashed in his mind as he sat there, staring at his unmoving mother.

"I should've been there for you. Dad – he left us. He left you. I know why now, but it – it doesn't change the fact that he was gone. He left you. And then I left you. I wrote you a letter every day because – because I was too afraid to come and see you. I lied to you, Mom. I told you I wasn't weak and you said I wasn't – but – we were both wrong. Mom, I am weak. I'm so weak. I'm lost right now and I feel that you're lost too. I need you, Mom. I need you. Logically speaking, you probably can't even hear me right now. Well – right now – right now I don't care about logic or facts or – or any of that. I – I just care about you. I care about you. I love you, Mom. I love you and I just wish you would wake up. Please – I need you."

A sudden noise shrieked from the machines above Reid's head. He felt his blood turn cold and the shrill scream was like a blade to his head and heart. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. In that moment, he simply squeezed his mother's hand tight. His eyes locked on his mother's seemingly peaceful face. As seconds ticked by and the room was still empty, Reid's lips began twitched. He called out for help, but all that came out was a strained whisper. He cleared his throat and thrust back tears and called out again, this time a broken yelp escaping.

"Please! We need a doctor in here!"

He contemplated finding one but couldn't pull himself away from his mother, his trembling hand still wrapped around her still fingers.

A group of people swiftly entered the room, shouting jargon and commands at one another. Half of them possessed hardened and firm tones of aged experience. Others sounded frantic and hurried. Reid failed to even notice when their cries became directed at him. He could feel hands on his shoulders and he attempted to fight them in vain. He longed to stay beside his mother. There had been so many times he hadn't been there for her since he sent her away. He needed to be there for her now. He couldn't let go of her hand. He just couldn't. But he did. His exhausted body gave way unwillingly and he was escorted from the bustling room.

It wasn't until he was in the hallway and seated that he realized whose hands had been on him. He glanced up to see two of his best friends and their hands still supportively on his shoulders. They merely exchanged watery eyed glances. Words had no place in such a moment. And when one thought about it, what was there to say? All they could do now, was wait and be there for their friend. Reid remained motionless in the chair he had been placed in, his eyes penetrating the now closed door of his mother's room. His lips quivered and began running his palms against his pants. One of the men looked down at him and knew what was coming next. Spencer coughed softly and then seemingly out of nowhere leapt up out of his seat. His friends were quickly there to steady him and restrain him if necessary.

"Reid –"

"I – I – I can't just _sit _out here and do nothing while my – while she – I have to do _something_."

"Reid, there's nothing you can do right now, man."

"Don't you think I know that?" His outburst was quickly followed by a sudden stumble. His hands found his temples and he winced in pain.

"Reid? Are you alright?" Rossi's voice was distorted as it assaulted Spencer's head.

"Hey, Reid, what's going on, man? Talk to us, kid." The panic if Morgan's voice merely added to the unforgiving pressure.

Spencer collapsed to his knees, the impact softened by the support of his friends holding him. He closed his eyes and bit his tongue, desperately trying to combat the agony that was filling his head and the grief overwhelming his heart. It was as though his head was in a vice and he couldn't stop it. The pain simply increased until Reid imagined his skull would crack from the pressure. In his agonizing daze, Reid managed to open his eyes just briefly enough to watch a man round a corner and then, seeing Reid, break into a run towards him.

"Hotch?"

It was all Reid could say. That one word pounded against his brain, his own voice hurting him. He faintly registered the voice of another teammate calling for help. Everything was dark now and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He vaguely felt his body crumbling forward, arms keeping him from the floor. The voices grew distant and soft and with his last ounce of strength, Reid spoke.

"Mom."

It was the last word that passed Spencer Reid's lips and he submitted to the pain and the darkness.


	8. Silent Vow

**A/N: Okay, wow! Thanks so much guys for all the reviews! I really appreciate the feedback! How else would I have known I mentally lapsed and put Will's name where Rossi's was to go. Whoops! You all are awesome! **

**Chapter Eight: Silent Vow**

Spencer Reid didn't know where he was. The doctor prided himself on knowing everything he possibly could and lacking any form of intelligence at all he found aggravating. Not knowing where he was he found extremely aggravating. The one truth Reid held to his location was darkness. A black abyss stretched around him, swallowing him. At first there was only silence, a dull and terrible hush that merely punctuated the shadow-less chasm. A sudden whisper cut through the darkness, the small voice sounding like a scream in the silence. Another joined in, followed by several more and soon a chorus was ringing out in the void. Reid was vaguely able to place the familiar voices of his team members surrounding him. They were outside of the black. But there were others, inside the abyss with him. He recognized them but his mind was too diluted to understand anything they told him. Slowly, it began to strengthen. He reached out to the sounds of his team, tearing through the black curtain to be harshly greeted by glaring white light. Spencer hastily returned to the darkness for a moment before squinting.

"Reid –"

"How's my mom? Is she okay?"

The words were passed his lips before he was even fully conscious and he quickly began to sit up in the bed he apparently had been placed in. No one spoke and it didn't take a profiler to understand.

"No, no, no –" The word drummed against Spencer's lips like the beat of an unforgiving melody.

"Reid, just –"

"No! Just tell me. Tell me. I – I need to hear it. Somebody tell me. Please."

The collective silence returned before Morgan stepped uncertainly forward.

"Reid, after your mom fell, there was – there was blood in her brain. She – she had a stroke while she was still unconscious and –" Derek cleared his throat and glanced up at his boss.

"Reid," Hotch took the cue, "your mother, she didn't survive the stroke. I'm sorry. She's gone."

Spencer was quiet for a moment and Derek wondered if his friend was in shock. Reid didn't move, didn't blink. He was desperately trying to stop the room from tilting and to quiet those voices that now seemed to drill against his skull. Reid swallowed hard and Morgan knew that the same thing that happened in the hallway would happen again.

"I – I need to see her," Spencer declared as he began trying to get out of bed and his teammates reluctantly held him down. "No! I need to do this! I need to see her. I need to be sure. I have to be. She's not – she can't be."

"Reid, I'm sorry, but she is." Hotch spoke gingerly, as if speaking to his son.

Reid coughed and opened his mouth to speak. No words would form. He tried again and failed. And then he felt them coming. They bubbled and churned in his throat and burned behind his eyes.

"Can – can – can I be – alone for awhile? Please?" His voice rebelliously cracked and he stared down at the covers to avoid any possible eye contact.

"We're all here for you, Reid," Rossi whispered as he patted his teammate on the shoulder and walked away.

Morgan followed, stealing one last look back at his surrogate brother before exciting. Hotch was the only one left now and Reid's walls were close to crumbling.

"Hotch – please –"

"We'll be right outside."

Aaron Hotchner took another moment to stare down at his broken agent. With a nod, he turned and joined the others outside, his mind racing, yet his composure solid.

"Should we let the rest of the team know?" Rossi sighed.

"No, it's Reid's decision. We should wait until he is ready."

"And what about – you know – what happened?" Morgan didn't know quite how to categorize what he had witnessed earlier in the hall.

"What happened before isn't to be discussed with anyone outside of this hospital until we know something concrete when the test results come back. We all knew it would be bad if this were to happen."

"Hotch," Morgan sighed, reluctant to speak, "there's something you should know. Awhile back right after Prentiss – well after we thought she was – dead – Reid told me something. He said he's been having headaches and he even went to a bunch of doctors but they didn't – they couldn't find anything medically – or physically wrong with him."

"I know."

"What? You know? Did he –"

"No. He didn't tell me anything. He didn't have to. It's my job to know everything that's going on with the members of my team that might affect their job performance. It was obvious, I was just waiting for him to come to me."

"What could it be?" Morgan shrugged.

"I can't speculate and neither can either of you. If Strauss or the Bureau even hears a whisper that something might be wrong with Reid – psychologically – it'd be his job. I'm going to go check in with the team. One of you just stay out here by his room, okay?"

"Of course," Rossi nodded.

"What about – uh – Reid's father?" Morgan pressed.

"He's on his way. He doesn't know yet. If you see him, let the doctors speak with him. It's not our place."

The two men nodded and watched Hotch turn away. What they did not see was the moment of frailty that flashed in his eyes as he did so. All the confusion, grief and concern that he held inside surfaced for that one second and was promptly pushed back down. He couldn't flinch. Not now. His team needed him. Reid needed him. They were a family and right now one of their family members needed his help. But it was more than that and Hotch knew it. Gideon had always been a father figure to Reid. Everyone on the team knew that. Jason protected, disciplined, and guided the young agent as if he were his own son. In return, Spencer was fiercely loyal to his surrogate father. Then came the letter. Reid had been crushed. He would come into work looking as if he hadn't slept in days. He would quickly consume several cups of coffee and compose himself before the others arrived. Of course, Aaron Hotchner was always the first one in, and the last one out and Reid failed to hide the anguish from him. Hotch and Reid had always gotten along and were closer than most people are with their bosses. Still, after Gideon left, something between them changed. While Spencer and Derek argued over movie supervillans and if sequels or remakes can ever compete with originals, Aaron and Spencer held intellectual discussions and debates over the definition of narcissism or sociology, the relevancy of Freud's work and as far as the meaning of life itself. He taught Reid how to shoot a gun, something fathers do with their sons. He silently panicked when Spencer was taken hostage on various occasions and when he was infected with Anthrax. Hotch deeply cared for each member of his team, but when it came to Reid, there was just something else there. Dave was like the old friend that you'd one day be sitting on a porch in a rocking chair with. Emily, Derek and Penelope were all irreplaceably special to him. Jennifer had always held a special place in his heart and it was probably the closest Aaron could come to comparing with his relationship with Spencer. JJ was like a daughter to him. Spencer, was like a son. It would deeply pain Hotch to see Reid be let go. Not to mention how many cases had been solved, how many lives had been saved, thanks to Dr. Spencer Reid. The team – Hotch, couldn't lose him. Aaron silently vowed that he would do everything in his power to see that they didn't.


	9. Time

**A/N: Thanks for hanging in there with me guys and be so patient! I know, I am a horrible person for leaving it hanging for so long! Here are the next two chapters since you had to wait!**

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**Chapter Nine: Time**

Time seemed to stand still for the next several days for Spencer Reid. He spent that stationary time idly listening as his friends and coworkers offered attempted non-cliché condolences that still ended up sounding superficial in Reid's head. Of course, they could relate to what he was experiencing. The members of the BAU knew loss, whether it was of friends, family, spouse or fellow agent. Somehow, though, that didn't seem to stop him from isolating himself. He dutifully avoided doctors after he was signed out when his tests came back negative. He also hid from the topic itself. But the one he avoided the most in those days was his father. The few times they were alone together, neither knew what to say. Will would sigh and breathe his son's name, as if to desire to say more, but then either stop himself or be cut off by Spencer hastily exiting the room. It wasn't until the funeral that Spencer was forced to be around others. Of course, Spencer hadn't spent those days before the service alone. He had those familiar voices inside himself to keep him company against his own will. They seemed to be screaming the day of the funeral.

"Reid?"

Spencer turned around at the sound of his name. He had forgotten everything else for a moment. He had lost track of how long he had been staring at himself in the mirror or how many pieces of stubble he had been subconsciously counting on his chin that he previously had rarely let escape a razor.

"You ready, man? Your dad's here."

"I'm not going with him." Spencer snapped, nearly ripping the towel off the rack to wipe his face that he apparently doused in water in his mindless stupor.

"Come on, Reid, he's your –"

"Don't say it, Morgan." Spencer bit out the words. "I already told him. He's been fine with leaving me alone my whole life. This shouldn't be any different." Reid gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingers and then ran his palm harshly across his forehead.

"You okay, kid?"

"I'm fine." Reid said suddenly, spinning around to face his friend. "Fine. But I'm not going with him."

With that, Spencer brushed past Derek and stormed hastily out of the bathroom. He was swiftly greeted with another familiar face and silently regretted surrendering to stay with the team at a hotel the night before. He enjoyed the solace and locked door to well wishers at his own apartment or in his own room, at his own hotel, across town, but Jennifer and Penelope had all but insisted and he had reluctantly backed down. Now he felt like he was suffocating. The entire team was there to caravan to the grounds together, and apparently so was his father.

"Spencer –"

"No." It was all Reid said as he pushed past the man.

"Spencer, please, just give me one minute to talk –"

"A minute?" Spencer nearly shouted, whirling around. "A minute? You had countless. You gave them up when you left."

"Spencer, I thought we were working through this. You know, after you, came and –"

"Ten years. Ten years. A reunion, explanation and a few phone calls doesn't fix that. You left us. Us. Now, now, mom is, she's gone. She's gone and there is no 'us'. Just me. Me. And I don't need you. I've been alone for a long time."

"Your mother –"

"Don't talk about her. Don't you dare." Spencer's breath caught in his throat as the corners of his eyes noted the audience the conversation now had. "You weren't there. You weren't there before and you weren't there when she got sick after she fell. You weren't even there when she – when she died. You're never there. Don't try and be there now. I don't need you here. I don't want you here."

Spencer turned and abruptly exited the now crowded room, ignoring the calls from his father and friends. He didn't go far. As much as he yearned to keep walking out the door and away from everything and everyone, he wouldn't miss the funeral. He had to be there for her. She would never forgive him if he left her alone now. Reid had already failed before by not being there for his mother, he wouldn't do it again. Sitting down on the front step, Reid ran a trembling hand over his throbbing head, pushing back the knowledge that his verbal lashing towards his father was also aimed at himself.


	10. Letters and Memories

**Chapter Ten: Letters and Memories**

Spencer Reid couldn't remember his mother's funeral. For the genius with one of the best memories a human being could possess, he could not recount a single detail. He recalled nothing after sitting down on that front step of the hotel. He couldn't recollect the ride over to the cemetery, not the polished words by the priest, nor the empty words and handshakes from old neighbors and family friends. He didn't notice the peculiar glances offered to him by his mother's personal doctor or the discreet conversation he entered into with Hotch. After sitting defiantly on that cement, the next vivid memory Spencer Reid found himself with was nearly a week later. Everything in between had been nothing more than a meaningless blur. He had spoken with attorneys and even a real estate agent, but none of that was important. It all flowed together until Reid was met with the one task that frightened him almost as much as saying goodbye to his mother. The gravity of the situation was enough to jolt Spencer out of his grieving fog and etch the following events harshly into his mind.

Spencer could only successfully avoid his father for so long and when the two crashed paths at the place Reid was avoiding harder than he had for the past ten years, he nearly lost himself to darkness again.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer questioned coldly.

"Her doctor asked me to come."

"You never came here before. Why come now?" Again, his own words felt like they were turning right around and firing straight into his heart.

"Please," the man sounded drained and desperate, "Spencer, can we not do this today?"

Reid wanted to do this today. He wanted to tear into the man who called himself his father. Countless words, insults and questions bubbled behind Spencer's lips, yet he remained silent. Exhaustion won out over anger and Reid contended himself with instead simply not speaking to the man. They walked together in silence until they were met by the doctor Reid had come to know throughout the years. The gentleman spoke few pleasantries before unlocking a familiar door and stepping aside, waiting for the two visitors to pass by. When they didn't, it was as if no one dared to move. The three remained like that for several moments. Clearing his throat, Spencer reached out and twisted the doorknob. The agent stepped inside and was met with the haunting feeling he knew so well. It was there every time he entered the home of a victim. The house was still a house. The room was still a room. Yet, there existed this looming sense that somewhere, something was missing.

Reid made his way slowly across the room and began opening drawers and filling a box without saying a word. He moved like a robot, going from drawer to drawer, shelf to shelf. There wasn't much to take, but it felt like Reid was filling that box for hours. Spencer turned and for the first time since stepping inside, hesitated. The bedside table caught his gaze and he swallowed back tears. His feet began to move without his mind's permission and he found himself silently hovering above the diminutive piece of furniture. His fingers trembled as his arm reached forward. They brushed against the handle of the small drawer but then reeled back. Spencer closed his eyes and again attempted to open the seemingly trivial compartment. It slid open and Reid cautiously peeled back his eyelids. There, snug in the corner laid a notebook. This wasn't just any notebook though, it was a journal, her journal. His fingers caressed the spine as he lifted it into his hands. He felt himself breaking apart when his eye caught something else. A dark object peaked out from underneath the bed, as if beckoning him. He glanced back at his father before bending down and peering underneath the bed. A line of shoeboxes rested uniformly together, all of them barely fitting in the small area. Spencer pulled one out and pushed off the lid. His heart immediately dropped. His entire body quaked now as he gingerly plucked the contents out. The paper was coarse and aged against Reid's skin. The color had faded and the creases were becoming slits. Despite the flaws, Reid could still see the handwriting clearly. He would recognize it anywhere. It was his.

"She kept them," he muttered to himself in disbelief.

"What?" Will turned around and approached his son.

"My – my letters. Every day for the past 10 years – I – I wrote mom – I wrote her a letter. This one – it's dated – it was only a couple months after she came here. I can't believe she – she kept them." He paused an cleared his throat. "A lot of good they are now."

"What do you mean?"

"I wrote her a letter every day so I wouldn't have to – so I could feel better with myself for hardly ever visiting her."

"Spencer –"

"She kept every single one. This – this is all she had of me. This is all she died with. She didn't even get to see me – before –"

"Spencer, don't –"

"No! I should've been there! I should've been with her when she – I should've come to see her more. I could've done something. This is all my fault. I sent her away. I couldn't help her – so I – I killed her."

"Spencer, stop. This – this wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault – it's mine. I left. She – she had letters from you. She had nothing but painful memories from me. I was in a conference when she fell. My phone was off all weekend. Then when I got back – well, I couldn't do it. I barely got there before –" He trailed off and sighed with such a weight that didn't require words to express.

After a moment of silence, Will grasped Reid's shoulders and lifted his son to his feet.

"Spencer, son, this is not your fault. You hear me? Don't ever think that again. Ever."

Reid lowered his head and neglected to respond. Will imagined his son would rip away from his grip and begin the verbal assault that accompanied their last reunion. Instead, Will began to feel his son shake. Spencer's shoulders shuddered underneath his father's strong grasp. Will squeezed his son's shoulders as he too began to weep. In one sudden and unexpected movement, Will pulled Spencer close to him in a tight embrace. His hand found the back of his son's head and Will was brought back to Spencer as a small child.

A four year old Spencer had been sitting at the base of a bookshelf in their home. He began pulling thick novels out and soon the packed shelf was becoming unstable. Young Spencer continued ripping books from their home as if playing Jenga. At last, he tugged on the wrong book and several more came crashing down on top of the curious child. He screamed and daddy came running. Swooping the child up in his arms, he caressed his son's head and allowed the boy to cry into his shoulder.

This was what happened as both Will and Spencer Reid began to break down. Will held his son tight and permitted Spencer's tears to soak his shirt and his own watery sorrow slid down his cheeks. For awhile, Spencer merely allowed his father to hold him up and close. Arms at his side, he leaned into the man. In a moment that was unexpected by both father and son, Spencer lifted his arms and wrapped them around his father's neck and back. Will's heart exploded. For as much sadness and pain that filled him, a rush of joy took over with that action. Tears of mourning quickly turned to symbols of happiness. They remained like that for neither knew how long, together mourning, together bonding.


	11. Walls

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Eleven/ Walls

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **Wow. I can't even apologize enough for how long I've made you all wait. I wanted to give you a big, multi-chapter update when I finally could, but I had time to slip this in so I thought I would at least give you all a little something for now. I promise this fic isn't dead or dying. I literally have it "written" and finished, just not typed.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Reviews are to me, what this chapter is to you Reid-deprived readers.**

**Chapter Eleven: Walls**

It was all just too much.

Spencer Reid knew how to compartmentalize. He had become an expert at cloaking his internal struggles. He was a seasoned brick layer of walls he had built up around himself. His mind was a shield and now that one last line of defense was crumbling. Tobias Hankle and drugs had done a good job at breaking it down once before. Even though Spencer had rebuilt it, there remained cracks. Yelling at Jennifer in front of the team. Revealing his headaches to Morgan and Prentiss. And now what had happened at the hospital and the hotel, and then later in front of his father. He couldn't allow anymore cracks. He couldn't let his team through the bricks, past the walls. There was far too much frailty inside there. Grief and anger danced dangerously with guilt and regret. Insecurity simply added to the instability of it all. It was a mess no one but Reid could know of. And those were merely the emotions. He could never reveal what else lurked beyond those walls.

Reid would force himself to be strong, to add another layer of bricks and mortar no matter what it took.

He had stopped giving in to Jennifer's demands that he stay at their house. He couldn't hold the barriers up 24/7 and his frequent nightmares had already shown them far too much.

So now he sat alone in his apartment, silent tears drawing unhappy lines down his face. He cried whenever he was alone now. He couldn't risk the wet weakness showing itself in front of others. He was returning to work, despite his teammates' urgings for him to take more time off. He needed to get back. He needed to be distracted, to be surrounded by people where he would be mentally forced to extend the walls. He couldn't get out of practice. He couldn't get weak.

Alone, the barricade came too close to breaking down entirely. If that happened, Reid didn't know if he'd have the strength to build it yet again. Alone, he thought of her. He remembered her. Her scent, voice and smile assaulted his senses. He would let it in now, even welcome it. Tonight he would bathe himself in it, for soon he would return to work and retreat behind the walls.

The following day, soon, was quickly promoted, to now. As much as Hotch didn't desire to do so, he phoned the young agent. Spencer was still in bed when the call came, but was nearly dressed by the time he hung up. He was ready for this. He had to be.

"We've been asked to go to Wisconsin immediately," Hotch informed the team as they all finished entering the bull pen, not even waiting for them to commune in the conference room.

"What's going on?" Prentiss sat forward.

"A man has taken an entire church congregation in a small, mostly wooded community near the Michigan boarder, hostage. He has informed the local authorities that angels speak to him and have told him the church contains sinners who must be punished."

"Do we have anything to work a profile?" Morgan pressed.

"We can do it on the plane. There's no time."

"Hotch, what is it?" JJ stood.

"They have reason to believe he's already killed three people before police even got there. He's using the women and children as shields, blocking the doors and windows."

"Let's move," Rossi nodded.

"So this guy? He thinks he's hearing angels." The sheriff remarked. "This is new for me."

"Hearing voices is actually more common than you'd think," Morgan informed the men, giving a slight habitual pause for Reid to jump in with a statistic; though when Spencer remained uncharacteristically silent, he continued. "Only a small portion –"

"One out of every three," Spencer mumbled.

Morgan grinned internally. He knew the genius couldn't pass up correcting him.

"One out of three of those who hear voices actually require psychiatric help. The other two don't experience difficulties and may even consider their voices supportive or inspiring," JJ nodded.

"You mean like giving them ideas, like artists and musicians?" The sheriff crossed his arms.

"Not exactly." Reid corrected, unable to contain himself even in his unusual attitude. "They're not inspired ideas, which people commonly recognize as coming from themselves. These thoughts are not the individual's own and would seem to come from outside their own consciousness. To them, it's like an actual person speaking to them." He noted the officer's still hesitant expression. "Think of a song that you find yourself repeating subconsciously under your breath and which keeps going through your head again and again. You might start humming it. You never made a conscious decision to start thinking about it and it's difficult to stop thinking about it."

"Now, we don't know much about this guy except for what one teenager inside managed to tell the operator." The female deputy informed the team and began to play the 911 message aloud.

"Hello? There's – there's a guy in church. He – he has a g-gun. He's locked us all inside and – and he won't let us leave. They – they're dead."

"Who's dead?"

"He killed three people. They tried to get the gun away from him and he shot them. I'm so scared."

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Regina – Regina Grey. I – I went to the bathroom and heard gunshots. I looked outside and saw him shoot them. He just – _shot_ them."

"Regina, it's okay. Help is on the way. Just stay in the bathroom and don't make a sound, okay? Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Just stay on the line. Everything is going to be all right."

The female officer stopped the recording and sighed.

"Do we still have contact with this girl?" Hotch questioned.

"Reception out here is pretty spotty," The male officer interjected. "We lost her about ten minutes ago."

"Have you tried to make contact?"

"We were waiting for you."

"How about with our guy?" Morgan stepped forward.

"We've been calling the church's number. Nothing."

"Except the first time?" Rossi nodded.

"Right," the sheriff sighed. "He picked up and said that everything was okay. He said angels had told him to do this. Sinners were inside and were to be punished. Then he hung up."

"Do you have a recording of that?" Spencer prompted.

"Uh, no. Sorry. There were some problems with the equipment."

"Those words you said just now. Are those the _exact _words he used?"

"No, I guess not. What does it matter?"

"Because to this man, these 'voices' are very much real, as real as I am to you. In order to talk to him, we need to show him that we believe them to be real too. To do that, I need to know exactly what he said and to figure out which angels he feels are talking to him."

"No offense, but this guy is crazy. How do you plan on negotiating with him?"

"No _offense_, but just because this man hears voices doesn't classify him as crazy. He has a mental illness and right now needs our help and understanding."

"Understanding? He's already murdered three people! I don't have time to take into account this killer's feelings."

"Well, you're going to have to if you don't want a massacre on your hands."

Hotch stepped forward, separating the man and Reid with his body.

"It is imperative that we handle this delicately, officer. If we don't, everyone in that church could die. We have to build trust and the only way to do that is through understanding him. Please, go with Dr. Reid and tell him _exactly _what he said to you. It will help."

The sheriff's body visibly shrunk and he reluctantly walked aside with Spencer. As Reid passed Hotch, his boss gifted him a stern expression and Spencer knew he was in trouble for the outburst.

The case was finally over after thirteen tedious hours and Spencer sat alone in the back of the jet, knowing what was coming.

"Reid –"

"I know, Hotch," Spencer sighed, not looking up at his boss as Hotch took a seat. "I'm sorry. It's just – cases like that – with my mother. People think anyone who hears voices or is schizophrenic or has any mental disorder are crazy and dangerous. Do you remember Sammy?"

"The child with autism?"

"His picture was all over newspapers and on TV. He had more news stations cover his story then Earl Harvey. But if a person were to watch a broadcast of Sammy and then one of a schizophrenic man who killed someone, they'll remember that one longer. The only real danger my mother ever presented to herself was lack of exercise because she laid in bed reading all day. An estimated 26.2 percent of Americans qualify for a DSM-IV disorder, yet the majority of people only focus on that small percent that we study. The words psychotic and psychopath are confused and used interchangeably in books and on television."

"Society's come a long way, Reid," Hotch reassured the young man, "you know that. And you know that, unfortunately, not everyone will not evolve with it."

"Yeah, I know."

The two shared a moment of silence and Aaron waited patiently for his surrogate son to confide in him.

"Is there something else that's on your mind, Spencer?"

Reid froze. It wasn't the uncharacteristically somber, yet compassionate tone that threw him. It was the word. The one word, the name, he wondered if his boss had ever spoken before. Spencer shifted uncomfortably and glanced up ever so slowly to meet his boss' eyes. They still possessed that same hard shell they always did. Yet this time, there was something else also there. It was the same expression he had noticed back at the hospital before he fell.

Spencer slowly shook his head and Hotch nodded in acceptance, both knowing the other was lying.


	12. Mama He's Crazy

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Twelve/Mama He's Crazy

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **It's been a LONG time. I know. My laptop died. Literally. It's gone. And with it, went the majority of my typed saved story files. I had neglected to save the last few updates on USB before it happened. So I had to go through and try to find the old hard hand written copies and re-type the chapters, or re-write them altogether. This is a longer chapter due to the fact that it is several chapter ideas spliced together into one. I didn't want to drag this out forever. And guess what? IT'S THE REVEAL! You finally find out (sort of...) what's behind the headaches. That doesn't mean this story is over or all questions are answered! Stay tuned! I'm going to post a few chapters all at once now as I finished them and you deserve it for being so patient with me! Thanks for hanging in there!

Mama He's Crazy is the title of a song by The Judd's

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Review?**

**Chapter Twelve: Mama He's Crazy**

Today was a bad day for Spencer Reid.

His father called merely seconds after he awoke for the day and the first layer of stress had been placed atop him before the sleep had even been brushed from his eyes. Ten minutes later, shortly after Reid had nicked his chin while shaving, his mother's psychiatric doctor phoned and yet another blanket of anxiety was draped over him. On his way into work, right before he spilled fresh and fiery coffee down the front of his shirt, an attorney called with some loose ends to tie up. Reid was beginning to suffocate from the layers of pressure.

And finally, he couldn't get it to stop. His head was drumming to some unknown thundering tribal tune since the moment he peeled back his eyelids. He was trying to focus on his paperwork. He needed to focus on his paperwork. He could feel the mental walls taking blows from the beatings inside his skull. He couldn't let this happen. He continually glanced at the vacant conference room and then at Hotch's closed door, praying for a case to come their way.

And still, the drumming.

No, not drums. Words.

The voices have always been with Spencer Reid. From an early age, he could hear them whisper things to him. They told him answers to things other kids, and even adults, couldn't comprehend. They helped him, guided him. Growing up, they were Spencer's only friends. In school, they swooned teachers and angered students. Spencer Reid didn't understand at first why others failed to understand him and the voices. As a child, he assumed everyone possessed these hidden helpmates. His mom heard them and he heard them, so why not anyone else?

As he grew older, he watched as the voices broke his mother down and drove everyone she loved away. He looked, and noticed they were doing the same thing to him. So Spencer Reid decided to never tell anyone about his not-so-imaginary friends. He ignored them. Pushed them aside. He hid them away in his mind, away from his parents, away from his friends, and finally, away from his team.

Now, they were fighting back.

He had almost spoiled the secret once or twice with a slip of the tongue. He told a schizophrenic killer that he knew what the voices are like right in front of Elle. Later, he revealed to Derek Morgan that he knew what it was like to fear one's own mind. It was a moment of weakness and thankfully, his friend hadn't pressed any further. But now, now hiding these voices from those around him was becoming increasingly challenging. They began to multiply, to scream and pound against the inside of his skull. They were tired of being oppressed and now longed and fought for center stage. Spencer Reid though, was, as everyone knew, an incredibly strong minded individual. What he lacked in physical strength, he greatly made up for in mental muscle. He was capable of looking upon deceased, mangled bodies usually without even a flinch. He suffered through detoxification alone, without the help of medication or other people. When others were ready to drift to sleep, Reid was still calculating, reading or profiling away, oftentimes all at once. Yes, Spencer Reid had one of the strongest and brightest minds of anyone around and therefore was able to suppress these incessant voices.

That was, until now.

He had stopped fooling himself long ago that they were merely headaches. But how long could he keep fooling everyone else? How long before he too, like his mother was no longer helped by the voices, but hurt by them?

Reid sat at his desk as all of this played over again in his mind, clicking a pencil agitatedly against a book. His eyes remained focused on the wall across the room, but his head was elsewhere.

The walls were bleak, the color of hopelessness, of entrapment. Spencer Reid sat slumped over in a high back chair in the corner of a large sitting room. Others also occupied the room. Some remained silent or motionless. Others rambled on, muttering so quickly or slowly Reid couldn't understand them. Reid wasn't paying much attention to them anyway. His mind was always someplace else, somewhere outside of this suffocating place.

"Hello, Spencer."

A familiar voice jolted Spencer's heart. His stomach turned over, and with great hesitation, Reid looked up.

"Mom?"

"That's right. I'm here."

"Wh – what? That – that's impossible. You can't be here. You – you died. You – fell – I was at the hospital. You're – dead."

"Spencer, I'm alive. I'm right here."

"Why are you here? The – BAU? I don't –"

"Spencer, we're not at the BAU, remember?"

"This isn't right. This – this isn't right!"

"Doctor?" Dianna called out. "I think he's having an episode."

"Episode?" Reid yelled frantically. "I don't have episodes. I'm not sick! I'm not sick!"

Reid pushed himself back in the chair as a doctor approached. His mother stepped back and slowly turned her head away.

"Mom? Mom! No! Don't! I'm not sick! Don't leave me! Please! Please – don't!"

He struggled violently and then finally looked away from his mother and found the doctor's strikingly familiar face. Spencer ceased struggling and let his jaw drop. It took several tries before he was able to speak.

"T-Tobias?"

"Tell me it doesn't make it better."

The ghost of the man Reid had killed gave Spencer a sad grin as he stuck the needle into Reid's arm. Spencer writhed and cried out for help until the drug finally took over and all went black.

"Reid? Reid?"

Spencer jolted up from his desk, vaguely aware of his surroundings. He glanced up as Derek began to chuckle. Reid narrowed his brow in confusion and annoyance at not knowing what was causing this bout of laughter. Spencer haphazardly felt around his face and, with a grunt, peeled a piece of paper from his cheek.

"No, it's a good look for you."

"Shut up."

"Go home, Reid. Finish this paperwork tomorrow. Even Hotch has gone home."

Spencer glanced around. Hotch had just been in his office before he saw his mother. Before the dream, he mentally corrected himself. Had he truly slept through the entire rest of the day?

"What are you still doing here?" Spencer asked, trying to hide to confusion and tremble in his voice.

"Waking you up so you don't have an entire notebook for a face in the morning."

"Funny," Reid mumbled as he grabbed his bag.

"Dr. Reid, there's someone here to see you."

"Thought you said we were the last two here," Spencer glanced up to find Derek nowhere in sight.

Suddenly he realized the entire room had shifted. He was back in the mental hospital. Spencer sat up in his chair and scanned the room hopefully, longing to see his mother again.

"Hello, Reid."

Spencer froze. His breath hitched and a surge of anger raced through him, quickly followed by confusion, joy and sorrow. It was such a mixture that it made Spencer's stomach churn.

"Spencer –"

"What are _you _doing here?" Spencer snapped.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"You said enough in the letter."

"No, Spencer, I didn't. I lied. I lied to you. I left the team, because of you."

"What?" Reid was livid, while also repressing sorrow filled agony.

"I couldn't tell you them, but, I saw it happening."

"Saw what happening?

"You – going crazy."

"You're not him."

"It's really him, son."

"Dad?" Reid whirled around at the other familiar and equally painful voice.

"Spencer, he's right. You've always been sick, crazy. I could see it in you when you were a child. Such a disappointment. My son. I was ashamed of you."

"Everyone leaves you, Spencer," Gideon sighed. "I tried to help you, guide you, but even I couldn't do it. No one can. Everyone will leave you in the end."

"You're a burden," Will agreed with a nod, "you're sick."

"No," Reid slammed his eyelids shut. "No, no, no."

Spencer's eyes cracked open. As he sat up at his desk, clarity slowly eased over him. He glanced over and saw Hotch still in his office. The day hadn't passed at all. Everything had been a dread. A nightmare. His mother, Tobias, Morgan, Gideon, his father. None of it was real. But still, Reid couldn't help but feel that real or not, they were right.

"Hey, man," Morgan nodded as he approached his teammate's desk.

Spencer neglected to respond, simply staring ahead as if boring holes through the paperwork in front of him with his eyes.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan rapped his knuckles against the desk and frowned as the agent nearly jumped.

"Alright, kid, talk to me. What's goin' on in that genius head of yours?"

"Nothing," Spencer quickly shuffled the files and laid them down while standing. "I'm just tired."

"Come on, man. You know that ain't gonna fly with me. What's the problem?"'

"There is no problem," Reid abruptly snapped. "I'm fine."

"You know, for a profiler, you're a damn horrible liar." Derek sighed as the young man grabbed his bag and turned to leave. "Don't do it, Reid."

Spencer froze and faltered, refusing to turn back around and face his friend.

"Whatever's going on, whatever you're going through and whatever you are thinking about doing to deal with it or fix it or whatever – don't."

Spencer's shoulders visibly shrunk under the weight of his friend's words. His mind flashed back to crumbling and breaking down in the backyard of a victim's house and witnessing the act that had first wet his tongue. He just felt so tired and weak and part of him didn't want to have to deal with it anymore. It would be so easy to simply slip away, lose himself in a world he once knew. Telling someone, revealing his deepest and darkest secrets and weaknesses was entirely too embarrassing and difficult. Spencer had to admit to himself that it would be nice to finally let someone in, to no longer be alone. Of course, certain members of the team already knew part of his story. Reid was certain Hotch knew of the drug use and was suspicious of how much the others guessed at. Morgan already knew about his headaches, along with Prentiss. JJ gave him knowing glances that told Reid she suspected, but despite how close they were he just couldn't reveal it – not this. Everyone on the team knew pieces, but no one knew the whole score. Even Reid wasn't sure he did.

A hand fell on his shaking shoulder and Spencer suddenly was aware that delicate, hot tears were dancing slowly down his cheek. He hastily attempted to brush the signs of frailty away. With a quaking breath, Reid stiffened and continued walking towards the door.

"Reid –" Morgan nearly pleaded, gaining on Spencer and whispering. "Is it the headaches?"

Again, his knowing words stopped the young agent in his tracks.

"Come on, man. The headaches. The mood swings. Talk to me before it's too late. Before you go and do something you know you'll regret." He paused and made his way to again place a strong hand on his friend's arm. "They're getting worse, aren't they?"

"Yeah," was all Spencer could whisper after standing in silence for several moments. "Worse."

"Reid," Morgan turned Spencer to face him. "You are stronger than this, man. I know you. Don't let this beat you. Don't let it win. Fight."

"Morgan," Reid coughed, "you don't understand."

"Then help me to."

"I can't fight this!" Reid suddenly shouted, his walls trembling as all eyes fixed on him.

Morgan and Reid both glanced around before stiffly stalking into the conference room, Spencer shutting the door none too gently.

"It's not a punching bag or an UnSub or – or the flu or something. It's inside me. Inside my head! Something is _wrong with me_, don't you get it? It's not a tumor! It's a part of _me_. Of who I am."

"Reid, they're headaches. With all the grief and stress –"

"They're not from stress and you know it, Morgan. Something – something is wrong with me."

"So, what are you going to do? You gonna give up? Go back to diludid?

"Wh – what?" Spencer nearly fell backwards and couldn't speak for a moment. "Did Hotch –"

"Hotch didn't have to tell me anything. I know you, man. And I know you're stronger than this."

"What if I'm not?" Reid's voice suddenly dropped from rage to that of a frightened child.

"You are." Morgan countered firmly, locking eyes with the anxious agent.

"How do you know?"

"Because," Morgan nodded, "I'm me, and I know everything, remember?"

"I thought I was the genius," Reid mumbled, pouting.

"There's my boy," Derek laughed and patted Spencer's back. "You're gonna be fine. Trust me."

Morgan spoke the words as though he believed them. He wanted to believe them, he needed to. And as Spencer saw the assuredness in his friend's eyes, he began believing too.

That was, until, he turned to open the door and was suddenly standing face to face with his boss, the man he had been avoiding, the man who now held one of the most serious expressions Reid knew him to possess.


	13. Walk Away

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Thirteen/ Walk Away

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **dun dun dun

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter Thirteen: Walk Away**

"Reid," Hotch began with a heavy sigh, "can we speak in private please?"

Spencer was suddenly regaining his strength. He couldn't comprehend how he had let such a monumental blow come to the bricks during the conversation with Morgan. His emotions had seized the wall and he was now quickly regretting it.

Morgan ducked out of the room and Hotch quietly closed the door. The previous sanctuary from eager eyes now felt more like a trap to Reid.

"Reid," Hotch spoke his name once more, as if trying to avoid the next words," I'd – I'd like you to undergo a psychological evaluation."

"What?" Reid's walls tilted. "No – you –"

"Reid, I'm asking you as a friend. As your boss, I'm telling you that the Bureau has ordered you to do so."

"Because of my mother's death? I already had to talk to –"

"It's not because of your mother," Hotch interrupted somberly and the room was silent for a moment.

"Then – then what?" Spencer swallowed.

"We wanted – I persuaded them to at least give you proper time to grieve before –"

"It's barely been two months." That anger was leaking through the mortar again. "That's the proper time to grieve?"

"No. But it's all the Bureau will allow considering you insist to return to work."

"What do you mean 'allow'?"

"Reid, you can't hide it anymore. I tried to – but what happened at the hospital somehow reached the ears of certain individuals here. They performed an investigation."

"An investigation. Of me?" Reid questioned incredulously.

"You and that sheriff on the case in Wisconsin got into several heated discussions, even after the case was resolved. He filed a complaint with the Bureau. There have been other –"

"No. No. No. They can't do this. I'm fine. Well, of course, I'm not perfect. If I go in for a psych eval' now they'll misinterpret my grief as some psychotic –"

"No one said anything about psychotic," Hotch cut off the rambling agent with a worried expression. "Reid, I'm not arguing this with you. I'm sorry. You either take this evaluation, or you're off the team."

"What?" Spencer flinched as if he had been physically attacked by the words.

"Strauss already has the paperwork ready. You have to agree to this or you will no longer be able to work for the Bureau."

Reid scoffed as his eyes flared with rage and denial.

"Good luck finding a new agent," Reid nodded as he cleared his throat. "I'll – uh – I'll get my stuff from my desk and be gone."

Hotch began to speak the young agent's name but Spencer was already out the door. He promptly stalked to his desk and began shoving items from drawers into his bag.

"Reid –"

"Morgan, don't."

"Don't do this, man. It's probably nothing. Take the stupid assessment. Show them you're not crazy and actually one of the best assets this place has and stay on the team. Simple."

"You knew?" Reid finally straightened and looked Derek in the eye pointedly with such hurt Morgan felt it in his own soul. "No. No. Nothing about this is simple. I'm not going to prove myself to the Bureau after everything I've done for this team and for the people we've helped. I got shot – I got drugged and beat – I almost died from Anthrax poisoning – I – I have risked everything and given everything for this team and for the Bureau that just seems to be constantly working against us. I'm done with it. All of it."

"Sure, it sucks," Emily agreed, daring to approach the conversation. "I mean, they tried to fire all of you for helping me. But we help a lot of people with what we do."

"People are alive because of you," Derek continued.

"And this is the thanks I get," Reid scoffed and slung his now overflowing bag over his shoulder.

He quickly turned and walked out the door before he could let any of his friends' words sink in, nearly running Rossi over as he entered. He didn't hear him call his name. He couldn't allow himself to get emotional or second guess himself now. He just had to make it out of the building.

He kept his head down as he charged down the hall and was sighing with relief as he reached the elevator. He imagined he would make it out without hurting anyone else or rethinking his plan.

"No."

The voice was stern and fierce, but ended in a trickle of despair. It stopped Spencer in his tracks. The metal doors parted and Reid regained his strength. Ignoring the voice of protest, Spencer stepped inside. He quickly went to the corner and turned to find the source of the voice standing in the middle of the door, her hands on both sides to keep it open.

"Reid –"

"Garcia, please, just don't."

"I knew it. I knew it. I told them this would happen. I told them! I saw a file about you on Strauss' desk so I did some digging and found the psych eval'. I tried to talk them out of it, but Hotch was already meeting with you and – and – that doesn't matter because you're _not _leaving."

"I am, Garcia, I'm –"

"No. You can't. You can't do this to me. First JJ, and then Emily, and then Hotch was gone for what felt like forever. We just got everyone back. We were just starting to be a family again."

"Well, families don't really work out for me."

"Reid, we need you – and your overly large genius brain – but mostly you."

Spencer fought back a smile. Penelope could make anyone grin, even when they least wanted to and even when she wasn't trying. Still, Reid had to stand his ground and protect his walls.

"Garcia, I'm leaving. This is a job. People quit jobs."

"So – is that all this is to you? A job? Am I just some coworker? I thought we were friends."

"They'll find someone else to replace me," Reid stated flatly, avoiding his friend's choked speech and question.

"For someone so smart, you can be so stupid, Spencer Reid. We don't want anyone else. We want you."

"I'm sorry."

It was the last thing Reid said as another agent approached the elevator and Penelope was forced to step back to allow him inside. At the beginning of the conversation, Garcia would have told the agent to take a hike, but now she was deflated by Spencer's callous words.

The doors closed with what seemed like slower speed than normal. Spencer quickly looked away from Penelope as tears began to spill from her round eyes. He could still feel those eyes on him as the doors shut and the elevator began to move. The man standing next to him began to tap his foot nervously and wiped his brow on the corner of his sleeve.

"Hi, I'm Patrick Long," the stranger grinned and took Reid's hand, shaking it even as Spencer just let it hang limply. "First day."

Spencer hadn't needed him to say it for Reid to know it. He was young, probably plucked fresh from the academy. His suit was tailored and his watch was no knock off. This one came from money.

Maybe he'll be my replacement, Reid thought.

"I was so nervous, I left my briefcase in my car." He paused and chuckled. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name."

"Reid," Spencer mumbled.

"Reid? Spencer Reid with Aaron Hotchner's BAU team? Oh, I've heard a lot about you. I've read about you too. I was hoping for BAU but I guess terrorism is my new home."

Spencer suddenly felt scared for his country as the elevator doors parted. The two men stepped out and headed for the door.

"Well, it was sure great meeting you," Again, Patrick shook Spencer's unmoving hand. "I guess I'll see you around."

Spencer merely nodded and turned away, thinking that he would never see that man, or the building behind him, ever again.


	14. Last Goodbye

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Fourteen/ Last Goodbye

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **A short little almost "side" chapter. I had this, but it didn't really fit where I wanted the other chapters to end/begin/etc.

Since I can't post links in here, you all should go over RIGHT NOW to YOUTUBE and go to my CHANNEL. It's Tara Laurel. I posted 2 promo videos for this story. I had a lot more in mind, with different scenes, music, dialogue, etc, but it didn't work out when my computer fried. I just uploaded what I had. Enjoy! And comment if you'd be so cool & kind.

So, go, youtube, now. Then come back and read more!

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter Fourteen: Last Goodbye**

It was a bad idea.

Spencer knew this was a horrible idea, but there he was, inside Jennifer's house once more. As much as he loved his friend and felt terrible she had been ill for several days now, he had been glad he had not had to face her earlier with everyone else. He might not have made it out the door.

He was leaving the FBI, and leaving this city. He wanted to leave his own self behind too. The walls were thin, though, when it came to JJ and he couldn't bear to disappear without saying goodbye. He had done so five minutes ago and tried to make a quick exit, but Jennifer was having none of it.

"Spence, just wait –" JJ pulled off her blanket and trudged off the couch behind Reid.

"JJ, you shouldn't be up. You're sick –"

"And you shouldn't be quitting."

"Hey," Will spoke as he descended the stairs, "what's going on?"

"I'm just picking up some of my stuff I left here," Reid announced, avoiding the topic.

"He's saying goodbye," Jennifer's voice was hard, but cracked towards the end. "He's leaving the BAU."

"What?" Will came further into the room and stood by Jennifer.

"Not leaving," Spencer corrected pointedly , "I'm being fired."

"That's not true," JJ countered. "You're letting them fire you because you won't go to an interview."

"It's not an interview, JJ," Reid spat, "it's a psychological evaluation."

"So what? They make us do stuff like that all the time. After Emily, after she came back, after Hotch lost Hailey. I had to take one after I had Henry, before I could come back early from leave. Spence, I know you hate them, but your mother –"

"This isn't about my mother!"

The room collapsed into crushing silence as Reid's sudden outcry resonated against the walls in the house and in his head.

"Then what is it about?" Will finally broke the stillness.

"I – uh – I – I've been having – headaches," Spencer stopped and glanced up at Jennifer, her hard gaze instantly falling and softening with understanding.

"Spence," JJ sighed, her voice now lacking its previous edge and laced only with empathy, "just because your mom had it, doesn't mean you will."

"But it could. Statistically speaking –"

"Don't, Reid. You're not a statistic. You're Spencer Reid. You're one of the best FBI profilers there is, you're hands down the smartest person I know, you're one of my best friends, and you're my son's godfather."

"None of that matters if my brain decides to go crazy."

"I think if you were going crazy, you wouldn't recognize you were going crazy. People with schizophrenia –"

"Maybe it's schizophrenia, maybe it's something else. Maybe – with everything I went through as a kid – and then everything I've seen and do see and know – my brain just finally is deciding enough is enough."

"That isn't true and you know it too. You're avoiding whatever this really is."

"Everything you went through when you were a kid, everything with your parents and what you've gone through because of your job – it's made you stronger," Will added.

"Not strong enough," Spencer whispered, mostly to himself. "I – I have to go."

"At least say goodbye to Henry," Jennifer pleaded.

"I'm sorry – I can't."

His words were rushed, stumbling out of his mouth and twisting together on their way out. Before anything else could be said, Spencer turned on his heel and hurried out the door.


	15. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Fifteen/I'll Be Home For Christmas

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **Did you all go to YouTube? Did you all watch my promo videos? Good. If you didn't, shame on you and you should go straight to the Tara Laurel page on YouTube and watch the two promos right now.

I'll wait...

Good job.

Did I mention I have a Tumblr page now too? Also under TARA LAUREL. (Catching a theme here?)

I post my poetry, fanfic updates, all sorts of fandom related goodies.

You can tell I wrote this a LONG time ago. I also intended to post it a LONG time ago. This was originally going to posted Christmas of 2011. Ooops. Well, here it is. Christmas in...April.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter Fifteen: I'll Be Home for Christmas**

Spencer Reid wasn't quite fond of Christmas. It was a time when families crossed the country to be together and share warm fires and warmer laughter. Spencer Reid did not have such a life, or such a holiday. While he used to fly to Vegas to spend some not-so-quality-time with his mother, his surrogate family also went their separate ways. Morgan took the time to head to Chicago to be with his mother and sisters. JJ went home to her two favorite men in the entire world and unwrapped presents, mostly Henry's from Garcia, and had a traditional meal, ordered from a restaurant, as neither parent were quite skilled in the kitchen. Aaron Hotchner spent the day with his son and sister-in-law. They opened presents and Jack always made one for his mother. At the conclusion of the festivities, the three would make the trip to the cemetery and Jack would give his mother the papier-mâché wreath or popcorn ball ornament. David Rossi shared Reid's lonesome holiday as he sat at home, cooking a proper Italian feast for himself, watching black and white specials and going to church. Before this year, Emily Prentiss had too understood the loneliness of Christmas. This year, though, she had someone to buy gifts for. She had someone to decorate for. Of course, she wasn't too sure what young boys liked for Christmas and had consulted Derek as to the proper gift for Declan. Penelope Garcia lacked a family to share the season with as well. She spent her holiday this year with Kevin Lynch and finished the day with home movies of her parents from their last Christmas together.

So, Agent Spencer Reid was surely not the only one feeling lonesome or sorrowful this Christmas, but he felt as though he was all alone in his suffering. It wasn't as if he had not been invited elsewhere before he had made his dramatic exit from the BAU. Morgan had tried to talk him into joining the Chicago trip while JJ insisted he spend the time with them. Seeing as he had been spending much time with Jennifer and Will, it appeared to be the most logical option. Still, this was Christmas and he didn't desire to bring misery to their joyful table. Not to mention the way he had left things merely a few days earlier. Hotch had also extended an invitation, but Reid felt as if their unique celebration was a private matter and he would feel like an intruder. Rossi's had been the most tempting. Dave promised that Spencer would go home not having to eat for a week and Reid was a fan of classics. Still, he couldn't force himself to go. When Emily invited Spencer to spend the holiday with her and Declan and few other guests, he knew the answer was no. He didn't like that she could always see so clearly through him. Garcia had vehemently proclaimed that Reid could join her and Kevin. Again, an immediate negative. Penelope didn't give up easily, but finally was talked down after Spencer spoke with Kevin.

Again, not to mention the fact that Spencer had literally walked out on all of them and doubted any of those invitations still stood.

So, this was why on December 25th, 2011, Spencer Reid sat at his keyboard alone in his apartment, moving boxes stacked behind him. He started by playing the tune he had learned from Sammy, as he always did. Each time his fingers stroked those keys, Spencer thought of the autistic boy. He remembered the death of his father and wondered how the remaining two members of the family were doing and if they too were having a miserable holiday. Spencer finished the tune and easily shifted into a number by Mozart. He was only several notes into the piece when his fingers slipped and he paused. His eyes went from across the keyboard and out the window, gazing upon the glowing lights of the season. He sighed and glanced back at his hands. After a brief moment of hesitation, Spencer slowly began "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". It was not perfect, as Spencer learned the piece for the first time as he was playing it. Halfway through though, he was playing effortlessly. That was, until a knock sounded on his door. Spencer abruptly stopped and groaned. It was probably one of his teammates, he guessed, trying to spread unwanted holiday cheer.

Reid crossed the room reluctantly and pulled the door open. His entire form stiffened and he neglected to say a word of greeting to the visitor, that is, if he could even find his voice.

"Hello, Spencer."

The voice punched Reid in the chest, and a hole through his walls, nearly sending him toppling backwards. He had seen the visitor's face, but reality did not set in until those once familiar words spoken by that once familiar voice were uttered. The room began to spin and Reid feared he had drifted asleep on the keyboard and was now in one of his dreadful nightmares.


	16. Have Yourself

**TITLE: **The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Sixteen/Have Yourself...

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **I'm a broken record, yes. I'm a shameless self-promoter, yes. Having said that, if you haven't yet gone to YouTube to check out my promo videos (under the channel entitled Tara Laurel) or visited my Tumblr (under the username Tara Laurel) then shame on you. Kidding. But if you _are _by some miracle interested, all you have to do for YouTube is type in my name, or search "Criminal Minds Spencer Reid The Best of Us Falls". That should get you there.

Here you go. More Christmas in May.

**Chapter Sisteen: Have Yourself...**

_Reid crossed the room reluctantly and pulled the door open. His entire form stiffened and he neglected to say a word of greeting to the visitor, that is, if he could even find his voice._

_"Hello, Spencer."_

_The voice punched Reid in the chest, and a hole through his walls, nearly sending him toppling backwards. He had seen the visitor's face, but reality did not set in until those once familiar words spoken by that once familiar voice were uttered. The room began to spin and Reid feared he had drifted asleep on the keyboard and was now in one of his dreadful nightmares._

"Wh – wha –"

"I know this must come as a surprise to you –"

"A – a – a _surprise?_" Spencer's senses flooded back to him as his voice cracked, coming to life with emotion. "A surprise? What – what are you doing here? Why – I –"

"Spencer –"

"Years – it's been years! And – and you just show up at my door – on Christmas?"

"Spencer, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're _sorry_? Sorry for what? Leaving? Not returning _any _of my calls? Disappearing?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry, about your mother."

Reid swallowed and stepped backwards as if in shock.

"My – my –"

"Spencer, we need to talk."

"Talk? Talk about what?"

"I know what happened. I know what you're going through."

"You know? Know what? I – who –"

"Hotch told me."

"Hotch? He –"

"He found me. I didn't want to be found but you know Hotch. I – I kept watch on the team – on you. Reid, I'm sorry about your mother."

"Sorry doesn't do a lot now. She's – she's dead. She's been dead for almost two months. Where were you? If you were watching and you're sorry – where were you?"

"I – I couldn't. You needed space, time. Seeing me right after – you know I couldn't."

"So, why now?"

"Can I come in? We can talk."

"We have _nothing _to talk about."

"As a matter of fact, we do."

Spencer narrowed his brow at the man and after several silent moments, stepped aside.

"You – you look good," the man spoke as he examined the small living space. "Huh, the piano? Still prefer Mozart to Beethoven?"

Reid avoided the pleasantries and paced across the room as the man took a seat on Spencer's couch.

"Spencer, sit down," the man urged.

"Uh – no. I'm fine. What do you want?"

"To talk."

"Talk? Talk about what? We would have had plenty of time to talk if you hadn't left."

"Spencer," the man started firmly, "you know why I left. Why I had to leave. I would have been no good to the team if I stayed. I understand you're angry with me, but right now I need you to listen to me."

Spencer bowed his head at the almost forgotten commanding tone and slid down into a seat without a word.

"Hotch told me everything and don't be mad at him. I asked. I figured it out with the breadcrumbs he dropped. He's concerned for you."

"Concerned? So – so what? He calls you in for back up? Haven't you heard? I'm off the team. I'm not a profiler anymore. I quit. Like you."

"No. You ran away like me, just for different reasons."

"This is running away? They forced this on me! They did this! Not me."

"You know that isn't true. They do some incredibly stupid things, but we choose how we respond. That's on us. Look, I understand that you're not happy to see me. I'd be lying if I said I expected anything different. But why I'm here isn't about us. It isn't about me. This is about you, Spencer, _you_."

"Me? Why? Why do you care?"

"Because," he paused pensively, "I don't want you turning into me."

Spencer couldn't speak. He had expected a lot of things to come out of his old mentor's mouth, but not that.

"I had to leave. You don't. Spencer, you're young. You have so many more years – so many more people you can help. Don't let all the politics and Strauss and the Bureau take them from you."

"It's not about them," Reid sighed and the man grinned a small and knowing smile, as if he had been waiting for that reply. "Gideon –" he paused at the sound of his voice uttering that name again. "Gideon, they – they think I'm crazy."

"Well, what do _you _think?"

"What if – what if they're right?"

"Spencer, I watched you at an age where other young men would've been in college partying or drinking. And you were working for the FBI. You were profiling the minds of notorious killers while others your age were still figuring out their own heads and what to do with their lives. You faced it all and never gave up. Reid, I watched as you were beaten and drugged and threatened and you still were able to survive. You overcame a very powerful, very deadly addiction. That was you. That _is _you. It's who you are, Reid. A fighter. You save lives and do a good job. You are going to be, if you aren't already, a better profiler than I ever was."

"But you're Jason Gideon – you –"

"And you're Dr. Spencer Reid. I've read all the articles on you. David Rossi might have written books, but someday, people are going to be writing books about you. They think you're crazy? So what? Prove them wrong."

"But what if they're right?" Spencer repeated desperately.

"Spencer, each one of us, every human being is as likely to suffer some mental illness as the next. Does that mean they're crazy? Does that mean they're going to become killers? No. But the same rules apply. Forget statistics. Forget genetics. A man loses his wife. A child is smacked around too much by his old man. A soldier comes back from war. A college student mixes too many drugs. We're all capable of terrible things."

"Is – is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Spencer, we can't control everything in our lives. But there are things we can control. How we respond. Do we let it beat us, or do we fight until there's nothing left? There's always something worth fighting for."

The two shared a long moment of silence as the man's words soaked through Reid's walls.

"Gideon," Spencer trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Why? I – I understand. I understand why you left, why you needed to leave. But – why? Why couldn't you just answer me? Talk to me?"

"I – I couldn't. It wasn't because I didn't want to. I just couldn't. Please understand."

It was vague on the surface and another person might have gotten angry, but Reid's hostility entirely diminished in that moment. As well as Gideon knew Reid, Spencer knew Jason just as well, if not better. Reid had idolized the man for years, meticulously studying his behavior, word choice, thought process and physical mannerisms. No more needed to be said on the matter and the two profilers simply exchanged a long and meaningful glance.

"So, Spencer sighed, speaking softly, "what now?"

"Now, I have to go."

"Go? Why? You just got here. What about the team? They –"

"They don't need to see me. They don't need me anymore. Neither do you. I've moved on and so have they. There's no sense in opening up old wounds without a purpose. Oh, and here," Gideon pulled a letter from his pocket and presented it to Reid.

"Another letter?" Spencer cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't read it. Not yet."

"When?"

"Only read it after you've taken this evaluation and gotten the results – and decided what you're going to do." Gideon went to the door a paused. "Oh – and one more thing. There's a man who appears to be your father sitting in a car outside, working up the courage to come inside."

"He – what? Wait, how do you know –"

Reid paused as Jason flashed him a knowing glance. Spencer nodded and watched as the ghost from his past disappeared down the hall.

Spencer stared down at the sealed envelope for several moments before shoving it in his back pocket, grabbing his jacket, and heading out the door.


	17. A Merry Little Christmas

**TITLE:** The Best of Us Falls

**CHAPTER/TITLE:** Chapter Seventeen/...A Merry Little Christmas

**RATING:** T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **Wow. My last update was in MAY. I feel like a horrible, terrible, no good, rotten person. I lost this chapter in the great computer virus of 2011, and then the great computer complete and total failure in 2013. I was looking for the written copy of it forever and I guess I finally gave up. I have to rewrite a LOT of the story now and I'm just trying to find the time, willpower, motivation, muse, all that jazz. I pretty much had this story completed before! I find it upsetting and sad that this story was originally supposed to be posted during the "current" year, as I was going to post the Halloween chapter during Halloween, and these Christmas chapters were supposed to be up around that Christmastime of 2011. 3 years I've been battling my laptop...wow. So much has changed in the show, but I'm still keeping my timeline, etc. I hope you can find it in your heart (hey, it is the Christmas spirit time...in this story at least) to forgive me! (If anyone out there is still putting up with me and reading this...) Spencer might be a little OOC in this chapter, as he is sometimes throughout the story due to all he is going through, etc. Plus, I just tried to crank this out pretty quick to give you guys SOMETHING to sink your teeth into! I hope to continue to rewrite the chapters and start updating this frequently again!

Another father/son chapter. Not much happens. I know. It's a bit slow. And the story has been a bit slow for awhile. Don't worry! There is some action and suspense right around the corner! I promise! Things heat up! And look forward to some Reid whump in the future. You know, 'cause we all love to see our favorite characters in pain for some sadistic, slightly scary, reason...

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Criminal Minds, Christmas, or any Thai food.

**Chapter Seventeen: ...A Merry Little Christmas**

Spencer Reid counted his steps – and the cracks in the sidewalk, and the lampposts, and just about anything quantifiable he could find – as he shuffled almost hesitantly towards the parked car. Some part of Reid's mind that wasn't counting – or worrying, or replaying his previous conversation with Gideon, or reciting possible things to say with his father – made a note to never invite William Reid to a stake out. The man was watching Spencer's apartment so noticeably it was almost embarrassing for the federal agent, especially considering with how intently he was staring at it, his father had not observed the occupant of the apartment leave. Not to mention the fact that the man had yet to notice his own son approaching his vehicle.

He watched his father jump in the driver seat as Spencer tapped on the window with his knuckles. Shoving his hands awkwardly in his jacket pockets, Reid waited anxiously as his father recovered from the scare and hastily rolled down the window.

"Uh, Spencer, oh, hi," the man stammered, "I was just –"

"In the neighborhood?" The humor Reid had intended to use didn't quite reach his voice.

"Uh, yeah," Will paused and drew in a long breath. "I just thought, seeing as it's Christmas," he trailed off, staring straight ahead instead of looking at his son.

"We haven't spent a Christmas together since I was 10," Spencer's words were far less cold and callous than they both thought they would be.

"Well, yes," Will stammered, "which is why we should spend this one together. I thought we could have a proper Christmas dinner, the two of us."

"Do you even know how to cook?" Spencer asked his father skeptically.

"Well, uh, no," Will replied sheepishly. "I thought maybe I could take you to a nice restaurant.

A crooked smile pulled at the tips of Spencer's lips.

"I think I have a better idea."

It was less than an hour later that Spencer Reid and his father were sitting at the small table in the son's humble apartment, containers of Thai food scattered between the two of them. When Spencer had told Will his idea, and even suggested his favorite Thai restaurant that was within walking distance from his apartment, he was quite surprised to find that his father was excited. The man had look not only relieved that he didn't have to try to cook, but also genuinely enthusiastic. He later revealed to his son that Thai food was his favorite, and, single middle aged business man, it took on the form of most of his meals. Spencer had raised a slight eyebrow at this, a little staggered by the idea that he and his father actually possessed something in common.

They ate mostly in silence, yet it wasn't the kind of tension flooded quiet that both of them had almost been expecting. The shared solace was surprisingly comfortable, and appreciated by both men. It wasn't perfect, but there was no hostility, no awkward gaps of conversation, no bad blood. They were both just content to simply be there, together.

It wasn't until after Spencer had started to toss the empty containers in the garbage and Will began cleaning the table that the two spoke at all.

"So," Spencer started slowly, "when do you have to be back to work?"

"I don't know," Will replied as he handed his son their dirtied silverware – Will apparently was just as opposed to chopsticks as his son, which also surprised Spencer, even as he, for the hundredth time, told the American restaurant owner how chopsticks actually were not authentic to Thai food. "I thought I might stay around here for a while."

Spencer stopped what he was doing and turned to look at his father seriously.

"That is," Will corrected hurriedly, "if that is alright with you, son, of course." He paused when Spencer didn't say anything. "Or, if you're too busy with your work, I would understand."

Spencer listened as his father helplessly backpedaled. He almost made a comment about it when something else slipped past his lips. He blurted it out in a murmur so fast he wasn't even sure he really said it, or if his father had heart it.

"Wait, what?"

The curious and shocked expression on Will's face gave Spencer his answer.

"I don't work there anymore." Spencer repeated, trying to force his voice to sound resigned, thought it was difficult after his talk with Gideon. "Spencer, what happened?"

Spencer was caught off guard by the caring look in his father's eyes.

"I quit," Reid shrugged his shoulders to make his body language reflect his tone.

"You quit?" Will repeated after a pregnant pause. "Why? I thought you loved your job."

"I do," Reid faltered, "I _did_. I just – it's not for me anymore." Spencer inwardly grimaced at how unlike him this sounded and just prayed his father hadn't been around him enough to notice.

"I know you're lying, Spencer," Will spoke in such a fatherly voice that it brought Spencer reeling back into his childhood years. "Talk to me."

Reid turned around, pretending to dry his hands on a towel, but inside just ending up wringing it through his quaking fingers.

"They wanted me to take a test," Spencer starter slowly, keeping his back to the man he could tell was fixing him with a piercing gaze. "An evaluation. It – it's – it's to tell them if – if I'm crazy."

"Crazy?" There was no hesitation in Will's voice. "Spencer, you're not crazy. Why on earth would anyone think that you are?" He paused as his son stiffened. "No," he shook his head. "_You _think that are."

The half of Spencer's brain that wasn't spinning, was actually impressed at hos perception his father seemed to be.

"It's statistically possible," Spencer explained, swallowing, still not looking at the man he was speaking to. "Schizophrenia is genetically passed and I'm the age where most breaks occur. And I have these headaches."

"Headaches?" Will stepped forward. "How bad are they? Do they hurt? Spencer, why didn't you tell me?"

Spencer was speechless. He had just told his father that he might be falling right down the same mentally ill path as his mother, and Will was more concerned with the physical pain his son was experiencing. He seemed to completely skip over the whole crazy part of Reid's revelation.

"I was trying not to tell anyone," Reid sighed. "Only Morgan and Emily knew, but now everyone does. The Bureau knows and they're making me take this evaluation. If I don't take it, I'm off the team. So – I quit."

"Spencer, son," Will sighed, "you can't just quit doing something you love, something you are so good at."

"Yes I can," Spencer snapped. "I did."

"It's not that simple," Will shook his head.

"Yes, it is. It _is _that simple," Reid wasn't sure if he was arguing with his father, the memory of Gideon's lecture – or himself. "I quit. I – I'm done. After everything I've been through, and done, for them, and they were going to make me do _this_? I'm not sick! I'm not crazy! I – I'm not Mom. I won't do it. I – I can't."

"Can't, or won't?" Will whispered the phrase Spencer's mother had used on him so often to challenge him in his childhood.

There was a long, heavy pause before Spencer finally turned around to face his father, revealing the tears that were now streaking his cheeks.

"What if – what if I _am_ like her? What if _I'm_ sick? What if _I'm _crazy?" His voice was broken and shaking as he finally let his true colors bleed painfully through.

"Spencer," Will spoke seriously, taking his son's shoulder's in his hands. "I know you. You may not think that I do. But I do. And you are _not _crazy. You're not her."

His voice was filled with so much certainty that a part of Reid really did desire to believe him.

"But what if I _am_?" Spencer pressed pathetically and desperately.

"Well, then, we will deal with that," Will answered assuredly, "_together_. The two of us. I won't leave you. Not again. Not this time."

Nothing more was said as Spencer let his pride and knees collapse. All his walls came crashing down, as his body crumbled into his father's strong embrace. Those barriers were no longer holding him up. His father was.


End file.
